Torn
by ShoutFinder
Summary: Across Alternate Certainties, something is killing the Dragonborns before their due time, and chaining them to the borderland realm, Pass, in order to be harvested. Alyssa Laryssin learns that in order to defeat this new menace, not one Dragonborn is required this time, but many. Stars Tiberia Morwyn, Kajsa Red-Blade, J'shana Tygra, Quill, Jon Stormcloak and Shouts-at-Sun.
1. Certainties and Uncertainty

**Author's Note: Greetings, my beloved readers! ShoutFinder here, with another story for you to sink your teeth into! Well, hopefully not literally - your computer won't love you for it - but in any case, here is the first chapter of 'Torn', which I hope you all will enjoy.**

**Like those of you who are following _The Huntress_, this tale contains my Dragonborn, Alyssa Laryssin. It also, however, contains six other Dragonborns who I'm certain you'll also know - if not all, at least some. Many thanks to BrunetteAuthorette99, MadameHyde, littlejuliet, skyflower51, Boys Do Like Girls and NooShoak for lending me their awesome characters!**

**And now I won't keep you...**

* * *

**Chapter One**

Alyssa turned around at the sound of footsteps echoing through the usually silent Currents of Time. Immediately, as she regarded the stranger, her eyes narrowed in hatred and, should she have been a wolf, her ears would have flattened. She hissed, dragon-like, even though she still wore the Cloak, but she flexed her wrists, resisting the urge to release the wristblades on either side—one under, one over.

'Don't you _dare_,' she spat, 'come any closer.'

'I'm sorry.' For once, he sounded genuinely apologetic. His eyes were lowered towards the ground.

'For what?' Alyssa snarled. 'Get out of here. You know you aren't welcome. This is _my_ domain. _Mine!_'

'What happened in life...' The Psijic monk swallowed uneasily, knotting his hands before him. 'The coming of the Eye of Magnus and the suffering of our greed unsettled events that we have not yet dealt with, nor comprehended.'

'That's for damn sure,' snapped Alyssa. '_Get out!_' The dragon now came into her words—trembling and thunderous and dark as the corrupted side of her spirit. She wouldn't mind using his wrath upon the monk now. She would never forgive them. Not after their betrayal. Not after their sickening bargain. _Never_.

'Please, listen to me!' the Psijic cried. Desperation crept into his voice. 'Alyssa, you must listen to me! You are in danger!'

'I was in danger the moment you threw me through the bloody Vortex!' Alyssa roared. '_GET OUT!_'

'I have no time,' the Psijic said rapidly. 'Choose to listen to my words or not, but it is coming, and it is inevitable. It is something that the events that were caused long ago have now progressed to. Become unstable...become violent. Started to rip holes through Time in ways that cannot be mended.'

'If you must speak to me,' spat Alyssa, 'then stop speaking in riddles and tell me outright, you fool!'

'The Vortex is being torn apart!' shouted the Psijic. 'And it affects not just the world of the dead—it affects the Alternate Certainties, too. All of them! Not just of your world, or the next world, but worlds in parallel unison to yours! The Dragonborns are dying and nothing can be done to prevent their deaths—they are being harvested as one source of power, for a creature that is desperate for it more so than we ever were!'

Alyssa hesitated. 'Alternate Certainties?' she murmured quietly. 'The...the Vortex is being torn apart?'

The Psijic nodded. 'Those who succumb never return. The Dragonborns are dying—and they are dying before they are meant to. Before Time rightfully claims them, and before Destiny has a chance to be fulfilled. The worlds are breaking.'

'I'm already dead,' Alyssa hissed. 'What does this have to do with me?'

'Everything. You are not like the others, Alyssa. You have the essence that the menace needs to complete his power. Now I am giving you a warning—my order has fled into hiding from these creatures, but it is up to you now—you, and the others. You cannot hope to defeat it alone. More are falling—and should you not run, so will you. You will never see the eagles again.'

A shudder ran down Alyssa's spine at this. 'Are they safe?'

'They are not of your world—they are safe in their skies. But yours is beginning to crumble. Run, Alyssa Laryssin. Run.'

It was then, at that moment, when the Psijic concluded his ominous words, that Alyssa felt a shift in the Currents.

Then there was a chilling cold.

Alyssa backed away from a force she could not see. Memories swamped her, nearly holding her to the spot—but a familiar, wild and desperate urge to survive burned through the cold, and she turned, and she ran, the Cloak sweeping behind her.

But it was too late. She felt it grab her from behind, and she fell. There was a blinding flash, and pain gripped every bit of her body. Alyssa cried out—she was dead. She could feel no pain. She should not feel any pain! Pain was only for the living...

For the living...

_For the living..._

* * *

A cold wind knifed her cheek, bringing scents that she thought she would never smell again.

Alyssa Laryssin opened her eyes. Above her was a bleak and empty sky, but beneath her was a light layer of soft, white snow.

Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position. She was wearing her robes of cyan and cobalt, but the Cloak was still tight around her shoulders and the hood still closed around her face. Her eyes were still green, her hair was still brown, her skin mostly unblemished and unscathed. And she still felt the reassuring weight of the wristblades fastened to the ends of her arms.

Alyssa felt cold...and for a moment, she wondered why.

Slowly, she pushed herself onto her feet, looking around her as she did so. She recognized the place immediately.

_Pass,_ she thought. _I'm in Pass._

It was a borderland world, a place that lay between life and death, a boundary between the afterlife and the living world. A place that lay between Aetherius and Oblivion, a place that could not hold, but held nonetheless. Where everything was shifted, mutilated...undecided, dying and living. A place where lifelessness and life existed as one.

The snow felt like ash beneath her feet. It sifted too heavily, too lifelessly. Alyssa had come to this place once before, she remembered. By accident. But she had come here nonetheless, and now she dreaded to be back here.

Something felt wrong. The air was too cold. The air in Pass was always stable, always of equal temperature. Now it was cold. Cold as a summer's day in the Pale. The wind was biting, but the snow underfoot was lifeless, and it was grey and dull as an old bone. The trees were tall and skeletal but still somehow alive. The water moved but was still. No time passed here. This place had never known it. It was left to exist, but never age. But it did not explain why the air was cold.

Alyssa drew her Cloak tighter around her shoulders. She suddenly felt very...alone. Empty. Defenseless.

Very _mortal_.

Beyond, Alyssa could hear something. She lifted her head, listening with all her might. Somehow, it felt more difficult, less natural, using her senses. They were weaker, not as acute, not as sharp.

They were thudding pawsteps. Beyond, in an unfathomable mist, something was stirring.

She stepped back, suddenly afraid. There was definitely something wrong with this place. Pass was not like this the last time she had visited here...Pass was definitely corrupted. Something was tempering with it. Alyssa realized the feeling in this place was similar to the feeling she had first encountered when entering Sovngarde for the first time, still alive, not yet a spirit, but walking in the lands of the dead and through the soul-snares of Alduin. It was _wrong_. It should not be.

Something snarled just behind her, and Alyssa whipped around, flicking her wrists instinctively, and the twin blades shooting from their sheaths. The edges glinted in a world without sunlight or moonshine, where spirituality was held still. It should not be. It was wrong.

The creature emerged at a run, leaping at her with a snarl rumbling in its throat. It took only a moment for Alyssa to realize the creature was spectral—and its outer sides were blue, shining and shimmering.

She dodged the attack, dropping and rolling. Her battle instincts had not yet left her. The creature paused and turned back towards her, letting out a snarling bark as it did so. From the mist, two more creatures crept out. The three wore the shape of twisted, rotted dogs the size of ice wolves, but whose eyes and spectral, wraith-like bodies glowed like the eyes of a Draugr.

No. They were not the size of ice wolves. They were bigger. Size of bears. But they still were in the shape of a hound.

_These creatures,_ Alyssa realized. _They bear similar resemblance to the ones I encountered long ago in Labyrinthian._ She watched them carefully, backing up very slowly when she saw they were trying to get around her, surround her from all sides. They let out soft, eerie, rumbling snarls. They looked both solid and gas-like. They did not take their eyes from her.

A cold, icy breath of air washed through the surrounding grounds, and it was when this passed that the three leapt, in unison, at once. Instantly, Alyssa dodged one of their attacks and flipped her wristblades up. She shoved the second off, and narrowly avoided having her arm torn apart by the third. But when the three landed, all three uninjured, they turned to face her, savageness not yet abated, nor even shaken.

_They're not hurt, but one should have been felled,_ Alyssa realized with alarm. _My blade tore through one of their stomachs, throat to tail. It should have been felled, but it's not wounded. It's not even weakened._

The three creatures lunged again, once more in unison. Alyssa was breathless—she was shocked at how quickly she had tired. Was Pass draining her stamina, making her fatigued as though she had received an overdose from a Frostbite Spider? Two went wide, crashing down on the ground. The third made contact. Jaws cold as an ice wraith's teeth clamped around her shoulder and Alyssa gasped at the piercing chill that shot through her body. She threw the creature off her and it landed easily on the ground and turned back as she struggled to climb to her feet.

Alyssa didn't feel as though she had been wounded. But she felt very, very cold. The ice was filling her blood and numbing her senses, but it did not increase in its strength, nor decrease. It simply stayed, greatly labouring her. The chill stung her shoulder where the teeth had assumingly torn through the flesh, and yet when Alyssa examined her shoulder, her robes had not been severed or damaged at all, even though she had definitely felt its bite.

_What is going on?_

When they prepared to attack once more, Alyssa decided she had had enough. It was time to end this.

She drew breath and roared, 'YOL TOOR SHUL!'

But there was no fire, no warmth, not even a single flicker of flame. Her own wearied voice, raised in a mortal yell, rang round the gloom, swallowed by the mist. The ice in her veins did not increase or decrease, but it was then that Alyssa realized there was simply no warmth to counter it.

_What is happening to me?_ she thought, suddenly afraid. The Voice had failed her...and she realized that it was not with her. Her dragonblood...it was cold. And it was growing colder. The creature that had bitten her was looking brighter, clearer, hungrier and stronger. Somehow, it had drained her strength.

She remembered the Psijic's words. The Dragonborns were dying.

They were being harvested.

Alyssa realized that defeat was inevitable. She had no Voice. No means to defend herself. Her weapons did not work against these creatures. They crept towards her. She would be destroyed. Like the Vortex, her soul torn apart.

And it was then that a fireball suddenly blazed through the mist, illuminating the scene in a fierce orange glow. It stung Alyssa's eyes, something that had never happened before, and she lifted her hand to shield the bright glare. The three creatures whirled around and one of them let out a frightened whimper. Then it exploded and burning heat washed over Alyssa, making her fall backwards, pulling the hood down low over her face.

When the smoke cleared she looked through. One of the creatures lay dead. And the other two were facing the hole in the mist. A figure was climbing through it, and Alyssa saw that one of her hands was holding a fistful of fire. Her crimson eyes were narrowed. In her right hand rested a slender ebony sword.

The two creatures lunged at her. With ease of a practiced warrior, she sidestepped them, and swished the ebony sword at the nearest. It pierced its ribs and through its spectral body with ease and the beast howled as abruptly it vanished into a swirling cloud of eerie blue and silver. The last creature landed and charged back. The warrior turned, and with a hiss, slashed her sword through its throat and maw as it leapt towards her. There was an explosion of colour as the creature dissipated, but within its core, there was a cloud of murky grey. It hovered for a moment in its place after the warrior lowered her blade, before it broke away into strands and swam back through the air towards its mistress.

Alyssa felt it flood through her, and gradually the ice-cold feeling lessened...but she realized that the feeling had simmered only a little, enough to reduce the immediate discomfort, but it was still present. Her exhaustion lingered.

She looked up towards the warrior, who was now approaching her. Her eyes, red as blood, were wide.

'You tried to Shout,' she said. Her voice bore both the accent of the Dunmer race and the hardiness of a Nord's.

Alyssa looked at her, and shakily nodded. 'That...that I did. But how do you know?'

'Because when I first woke up here, I tried to do the same.'

The ebony sword slipped into the sheath at her side, and she extended a hand. Alyssa hesitated only for a moment, before she took it and the woman helped her climb back onto her feet.

After a moment, Alyssa said in confusion, 'Who are you?'

'Name's Morwyn,' answered the Dunmer shortly.

'My name's Alyssa.'

Morwyn gave a nod but said nothing.

Alyssa took note of her appearance a little more. She frowned when she noticed the strange thing about her armour. It was made, to her disbelief, entirely out of dragonbone. Sigils were carved all over it, over every single inch of bone. Alyssa was certain they were Daedric – while she couldn't read that language, she could recognize one of the sigils easily.

It also made Alyssa remember what Morwyn had said earlier.

'You knew that I was trying to Shout. How?'

Morwyn glowered.

'Because before I came here, I could, too. And _that_ was my favourite.'

'You could Shout?'

'Dragonborn,' said Morwyn, almost angrily. 'I am—I was—Dragonborn.' She glared at Alyssa and added, 'And so were you, if it means you've turned up in this place. They don't just pluck ordinary people off the streets and from the dead realms and throw them here against these...these phantoms.'

Alyssa was startled. 'You're Dragonborn, too?'

'Was. Not much of a Dragonborn if I can't Shout.' There was a bite to the woman's voice now. She turned away pointedly and added, 'And I'd get out of open sight if I were you. They don't just give up, and they'll rematerialize any moment now. You have to be on your guard here, particularly when you're mortal again.'

Alyssa slowly shook her head. 'I...I'm not sure I understand.'

'Then learn. Fast. If you don't, then the phantoms will succeed in their endeavors and the menace is only going to grow stronger. The more Dragonborns it absorbs, the stronger it'll grow until it'll be unstoppable.' Morwyn spat on the ground. 'And the only thing you can do here is run. Here, you're the prey. They aren't going to stop until your essence is completely absorbed.'

There was a rigid hardiness to her voice that made something click in Alyssa's mind. Suddenly the Psijic's warning came flooding back into her memory.

_The Vortex is being torn apart. And it affects not just the worlds of the dead—it affects the Alternate Certainties, too. All of them! Not just your world, or the next world, but worlds in parallel unison to yours!_

'How long have you been here, Morwyn?' asked Alyssa quietly.

The Dunmer warrior hesitated.

'How can I answer that?' she responded. 'There is no Time in this Gods-forsaken place. No sun, no moon, no stars...nobody but the phantoms and the menace and the poor, lost souls who are slowly being hunted, one by one. And each time a new one comes, I can feel this place grow even worse.'

She sighed. 'I guess you could say I've been here long enough to know how to defend myself.'

Alyssa frowned. 'You were able to kill the things.'

'Yes. I'm surprised you weren't able to.' Morwyn turned around. 'Or maybe your combat skills are pretty shoddy.'

Alyssa glared at her. 'Anything but,' she snapped. 'These just won't work against them.' She flexed her wristblades. 'And they have tasted the blood of countless things in the past.'

Morwyn was silent.

'Whatever the case,' she said, 'you had better start running. You're already weakened. The phantoms tasted and drained you. Each time they succeed in doing so, they absorb you for their masters. You regained most of it before the creatures could channel it through this place to wherever their masters lie, but some of it got away, got absorbed. They're a little bit stronger.'

Alyssa shook her head. 'I don't understand. Pass was never like this.'

'Pass?' Morwyn repeated.

'It's what this place is. Or was. Something's wrong with it. Those creatures never were here. This place is a borderland...not a hunting ground.'

'A realm of Oblivion?' Morwyn sounded confused, and also irritable. 'This isn't like any realm I've ever heard about, no any Daedric Prince. What would they want with a bunch of hapless Dragonborns?'

'It's not a realm of Oblivion. It's a borderland. The in-between.' Alyssa glanced down at the mushy snow beneath her. It felt heavier. 'I've come here once before. It was never like this. It feels wrong.'

She drew her Cloak tighter around her shoulders. The uncomfortable cold feeling did not disappear.

'You said there was more?'

'I only know they're Dragonborn like me because they keep trying to Shout in the dragon's tongue. And they fail.' Morwyn glowered at the ground. 'But they only end up shouting like a mortal does. With loud voices. Without power. The creatures hunt them and drain them further. The menace is growing stronger—and each time a Dragonborn succumbs, the packs grow larger. They're finding us. And we can't fight them.'

'More of those phantoms?'

'Not just the phantom mutts. There are more creatures. Sometimes, my weapons can't hurt them, and I have to run before they kill me.' Morwyn examined her blade and murmured, 'Strange. The Ebony Sword of the Blaze has tasted the blood of many.' Her voice sharpened in anger. 'And yet it can't kill a few Gods-damned knights!'

'Knights?' Alyssa echoed in confusion. She frowned. 'What kind of knights?'

Morwyn shrugged. 'Some jokers who run around speaking in some crazy language. I can't understand a word of what they're saying. It's not Draconic, Daedric, Dunmeris and definitely not Tamrielic. I don't even think it's Elvish.'

Alyssa stiffened at the feel of an ice-cold wind. It struck her bare skin and she shuddered. But when she glanced at Morwyn, she saw that she had stiffened, and her face had scowled.

'They're coming,' she said.

'What are coming?' Alyssa asked uncertainly.

There was a snarl from the murky fog, and Morwyn shouted, 'Run!'

The sound of approaching pawsteps was all the motivation that Alyssa needed. Turning, she fled behind Morwyn as the Dunmer warrior led the way through the swirling fog.

It was when they emerged again from the mist that Alyssa looked around, and immediately, her eyes flew wide open in disbelief.

Endless plains, some rising in huge mountains and others being flat as the meadows of Whiterun Hold, tore the world that lay beyond. The sky was bleak grey everywhere, but black, swirling whirlwinds were roving the lands beyond. Blue flashes were visible for the briefest of moments in the murky landscape. Thunder rumbled and cracked beyond, until Alyssa felt as though she were in the Soul Cairn again.

_Torn,_ she thought, shocked. _The world is torn!_

Pass had not been like this. It was an endless flat landscape. Only grey, only calm, only still. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

Footsteps pounded beyond. Morwyn was continuing to run, somewhat oblivious to the landscape that surrounded her. Gasping for breath, Alyssa fought to catch up. She had never been this fatigued before, and the chilling coldness that lingered in her blood only slowed her down.

'Hurry up!' Morwyn yelled beyond. Alyssa could hear the sound of the creatures approaching swiftly behind her. 'They don't tire, but we do now!'

Alyssa caught up to her. 'So how are we meant to outrun them?'

'I have a place. They can't seem to enter it. If we get there, we're safe from them.'

Alyssa was quite astonished how easily Morwyn moved in the heavy dragonbone armour. The Dunmer didn't look afraid, but she was firmly concentrating on every step she took. But behind Alyssa, she could hear the drumming of spectral pawsteps growing steadily louder and louder like a war drum.

'They're catching up!'

'We're almost there. If you shut up you can run for longer.'

They scrambled over an ashy ridge to look down on a small gully. Alyssa saw the dark mouth of a tunnel leading beneath a small hill, lined with what appeared to be carven stone. Morwyn was already sliding down the slope towards it, skidding down it in a spray of ash and old snow.

Alyssa could hear the creatures' breathing now, too close. She leapt after Morwyn, sliding awkwardly down the slope in a large cloud of dead snow. Behind her, the breathing was growing louder and more excited.

Then it started leveling out and Alyssa pushed herself to her feet, already running, but she was stumbling, and her lungs were aching and her body desperate for air. The tunnel entrance was a few paces away now. But they were right behind her. Fear flooded through her. She wasn't going to make it—

There was a swish of black metal and suddenly a pained howl, abruptly cut off. Alyssa spared a glance over her shoulder. Morwyn had run the leader of the pack through with her sword of ebony, retracted it and turned to run from the three others who were pounding swiftly down the slope towards them.

Morwyn and Alyssa made it into the mouth of the tunnel, but immediately despair crashed over Alyssa. It was a cave—the end was blocked away by a solid stone wall marked with carvings. She turned around, alarmed, wondering if Morwyn had somehow led her into a trap.

The creatures were almost at the tunnel entrance now. But Morwyn was facing them now, with little fear, almost with a gloating challenge in her eyes.

'Come on!' she sneered. 'Come get this!'

The spectral hounds leapt towards her—and then recoiled as though they had abruptly leapt into a stone wall. They protested with chilling screeches, falling back onto their four paws, and charged again, and again. Alyssa stared. Each time, they could not get through. They threw themselves against what appeared to be thin air, but they could simply not get through the mysterious invisible barrier that apparently she and Morwyn could pass through, but they could not.

'Piss off!' Morwyn shouted at the dogs. 'Go find some other Dragonborns to chase!'

The creatures didn't respond—they screeched louder than ever, hurling themselves more vigorously at the entrance, but always they were repelled.

Slowly catching her breath, Alyssa murmured, 'Why can't they come through? What's stopping them?'

Morwyn slowly exhaled, sinking down and leaning against the tunnel wall. The ebony sword still rested absently in one gauntleted hand. 'This tunnel is protected, somehow,' she said quietly. 'It's always been this way. I can enter, and you can enter—but those wraiths can't. No matter how hard they try, there has always been some kind of resistance.' Her eyes narrowed. 'But anyone with an ounce of logic in them would be able to work out it's because of what's at the end of the cave. The creatures can't go near it—they can go near us, but not to the walls.'

Alyssa, slightly bemused, glanced towards the end of the cave, wondering what Morwyn was talking about.

She saw what Morwyn was talking about.

It was a word wall. What she had mistaken to be a slab of rock with carvings on its face was actually a word wall—words sketched in the dragon language were all over its surface. And they were—all of them—glowing the same blue they always glowed when Alyssa approached a new one, and absorbed the knowledge there was to gain from it.

'Why?' she whispered, amazed.

Morwyn snorted. 'How should I know? But it's thanks to the word wall cave that I've actually survived for this long. Can't say the same about the other Dragonborns I keep seeing here.'

The creatures outside protested, and then eerie silence fell. They had moved away, and the blue colour within the runes flickered and died as the spectral animals departed.

Alyssa slowly sank down onto the ground, exhaustion catching up with her. She didn't understand...she had never been this tired before. Her stamina had always regenerated swiftly. She had always been able to Shout. The dragon's blood had always been there, the fire had never gone out, and she didn't understand what had caused Pass to change so much. To become so torn.

'Something crazy is happening out there,' she whispered.

Morwyn snorted. 'Crazy shit, you mean. I've been trying to find a way to fight it.' Wearily she sighed. 'And I have not found a way, as you can see,' she stated drily.

Her voice hardened, losing its Elven accent altogether as she snarled bitterly, 'I don't understand what's going on in this freaky place any more than you do, but what I do understand is that whatever put us here in the first place and hunting us took away our abilities, our inborn gifts. Made us mortal, made us weak and quick to tire.'

Alyssa frowned. 'But that's impossible.'

'Oh, really? You can't Shout. _You_ can't even kill those wraith mutts. Proof enough for me.' Morwyn's voice was cold and skeptical.

Alyssa shot her a glare. 'It's impossible to feel those things, though. To grow tired. To get weak. Those things only affect those who are alive. And I've been dead for...for a long time. I died a long time ago.'

Morwyn shot her a grim glance. 'You just said so yourself,' she said bitterly. 'This place is an in-between. A borderland between life and death. We're neither alive and nor are we dead. We exist, and that's it. Exist to be hunted by the wraiths. To be consumed.'

Alyssa looked carefully at the Dunmer. 'You don't sound too scared.'

'I would be giving them a whole lot more shit,' Morwyn admitted, 'but it feels as though the fire in me's gone with my abilities. I've never been this calm for a long time. Especially since the last thing I was doing when I was alive was killing my batshit crazy sister, my insane and twisted father and soldiers who formerly I was fighting for.'

Alyssa stared at her. Morwyn chuckled grimly.

'If you knew anything about the life I led when I was alive, Alyssa.'

With a growl, she pressed the back of her head against the wall and stared up at the ceiling.

'I wanted peace in Sovngarde. Now I'm here. For a reason I don't even know what. Fighting things I can't truly destroy. Mortal as the next man or woman. As though I was never Dragonborn.'

'But you've survived this far,' Alyssa commented. 'It's still in our nature to—even if the dragon is gone.' It gave her chills to think that the dragon was no longer within her. She had been born with it all her life, and her family had been born with it, all the way up to the end of the Third Age. To have no dragon blood, trapped in a world that was twisted and spoiled, faced by creatures she somehow couldn't kill, and yet this woman, Morwyn, could...

Morwyn narrowed her red eyes.

'You don't seem as upset as I'd have imagined you to be without the dragon to aid you.'

'It's happened to me before.'

Morwyn was silent.

Alyssa looked up at her. 'But thank you for protecting me against those things. Wraiths.'

Morwyn sighed.

'I still don't understand what's going on. Why we're here at all. What they want with us. But each passing day grows more dangerous. Each day the snow on the ground turns more to ash and dust. Each day more creatures like those are spawned. Each day the sky grows darker.' She flexed her sword and glowered at its tip. 'It's all I can do to survive here. But I don't think I can keep it up for much longer. The creatures were that close to getting me today. And they're growing more violent. I'm not certain about this barrier the word wall is producing but I'm actually kind of wondering what'll happen to me if it fails and they can come in.'

Alyssa frowned.

'Before I came here, I was visited by a Psijic monk in my Father's skies,' she murmured thoughtfully. 'And he told me that the Vortex was being torn apart. Something was killing off the Dragonborns before their due time.'

'Vortex,' repeated Morwyn flatly.

'It's a worm hole. Tears its way through Convexity to different points in Time. Connects to other worlds. Connects to Alternate Certainties. Different universes—and I'm certain that you come from one of them. One of these dimensions, and you've been brought through by a tear in the Vortex.'

Alyssa hesitated, and then asked, 'What time period did you come from, Morwyn? What Age?'

Morwyn paused. 'Fourth,' she said at last.

'Fourth. And those bones...they're dragon bones. You're Dragonborn. That can only mean you were there when Alduin arose from Time.'

Morwyn nodded, and tapped her armour. 'These were forged from the bones of an elder dragon. But what's your point?' There was a bite of impatience in there.

'My point is that you existed around the same time as I did,' Alyssa answered tersely, her own patience and resolve thinning. 'You killed Alduin in Sovngarde. I killed Alduin in Sovngarde. We've both been recognized as Ysmir—and, I daresay, a number of other titles?'

'Such as what?'

'Harbinger, Arch-Mage, Listener...'

'Harbinger and Arch-Mage, I was,' Morwyn affirmed. 'But Avalon was the Listener, not me.'

Alyssa frowned. 'Avalon?'

'My sister.'

'The one you killed?'

'Hell, no!' snapped Morwyn ferociously. 'Neva was the batshit crazy one.' She calmed down a little. 'It'd take all day if we go through the titles, but how did you know that I'd have some of them?'

'You lived your live to the fullest in your dimension of Skyrim,' said Alyssa. 'And I...I lived to the fullest in mine.' She listed off on her fingers. 'Guildmaster, Arch-Mage, Harbinger, Thane, Dragonborn, bard, Alduin's Bane, Nightingale, Stormblade...'

Morwyn stiffened at the last title, and her eyes shadowed.

'An alternate universe,' Alyssa concluded quietly. 'We never once met in our worlds. We never knew that we existed. We knew we were the only ones. But there are always parallel universes. And in each parallel universe of Skyrim in the Fourth Era, 201, I daresay there are always going to be Dragonborns who are living lives similar to us.'

Morwyn asked, 'How the hell do you know about this kind of stuff?'

'If you get over Farengar's obsession with dragons, he actually has some very fascinating theories on the fabrics of the universe. These parallel worlds, he calls Alternate Certainties.'

Alyssa looked around, at the ruins of Pass that lay beyond. 'Now it seems that some incredibly powerful force is drawing the Alternate Certainties into one thing. Drawing the Dragonborns from their worlds into the one place they can all truly gather—a borderland. Pass.'

Morwyn narrowed her eyes. 'And there, they are hunted for their power by whatever brought them here.'

Alyssa nodded. 'All Dragonborns. All sons and daughters of Akatosh. All victim now to the menace.'

She wasn't sure where all these odd answers had come from. But things just seemed to be making sense. The words of the Psijic monk...and Morwyn herself, being Dragonborn, having lived in a world identical to Alyssa's, but with different outcomes, different journeys, but always the same result.

'Did the Psijic monk say anything else about this?' Morwyn demanded.

Alyssa hesitated, and then she nodded slowly.

'He said that I had something that the menace needed to complete his power. An essence unlike the other Dragonborns.' Alyssa narrowed her eyes. 'I know what he meant. Impossible not to—I've been hunted like this before.'

Morwyn frowned. 'What makes you different from me? From the other Dragonborns trapped here?' She sounded even slightly offended.

Alyssa felt a shiver run down the length of her spine, and for a moment, she wondered if the scars were even still present. If there was any point of wearing the Cloak.

But she knew in her heart that they were still there. Scars were marks—the Cloak hid them, but they were a part of her body now. Even in death she was still tainted with them. That was how far Alduin's darkness had reached.

She stood up.

'This is why,' she murmured. Closing her eyes, she threw down the Cloak.

* * *

**A/N: So? So? Like? Not like? Love? Tell me, I beg of you! And you all know I don't own Morwyn, all credit goes to the amazing MadameHyde! And if you haven't read her tale, _Honor Among Thieves: The Unwilling Nightingale_, I STRONGLY suggest you read it! Seriously! It's got over 1000 reviews, so others obviously share the same opinion as me! Pleeeeeeaaz review!**


	2. The Fascination of Discovery

**A/N: Hey guys! We're back! You all know that J'shana and Kajsa aren't my characters, so what's the need in saying I don't own them? And for those of you who haven't read Honor Among Thieves: The Unwilling Nightingale, then there may be a *slight* spoiler, just sayin', but I find it very hard to believe that nobody HASN'T read it *hyperventilates with amount of reviews...***

**Enough of me - here we go...**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

S'rendarr's mercy...they were everywhere.

The young Khajiit glanced anxiously over her shoulder, frightened that they were following her. Her grip tightened around the Nightingale Bow. She was trembling. Never before had she felt so helpless. Not even when the Thalmor...

_Don't think about it, J'shana,_ she told herself. _Just focus on getting out of here._

She wasn't sure how long she had been here, or why she had woken up here. But she hated this place. She hated it more even than the darkness around the Twilight Sepulcher, and in comparison, the ancient hall was a comfortable palace.

They were endless. They kept attacking her. Each time she was able to fend them off but two of them had bitten her. She was feeling quite cold, and she shivered as an icy wind skated towards her, billowing grit into her eyes. She narrowed them, half-raising a hand to protect them, ears flattened, her fur bushed out.

She was undeniably frightened. The Khajiit lowered her hand at the sound of distant muffled footsteps, fear shooting through the length of her spine. This place seemed both calm and restless...it was strange, and felt as though she was always being watched. She had felt this way, she remembered, when she was hunting Alduin in Sovngarde, but this place was not the land of starshine and glory as she remembered it.

It had felt wrong—everything felt incorrect. The ground...it was torn between ash or snow, but seemed to be both in a terrible mixture. The sky was blank but cloudy storms racked the ground. The mist was thick and wall-like here, and seemed to try and push her back. The trees were tall and dead but not quite dead. Their branches were bare but their bark was still rich and brown, but none of them were large enough for her to climb and escape the creatures.

The footsteps grew louder. J'shana's breathing quickened. She tightened her grip around the Nightingale Bow, raising it a little, her eyes searching the thick wall of fog that spanned behind her. Within it came a chilling snarl. It made the hairs on her body beneath her leather armour stand on end. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and set it to the bowstring and waited for the horrible phantom creatures to come.

The creatures emerged from the heavy mist. J'shana's eyes widened in dismay when she saw how many there were.

Each pack that found her, that attacked her, was growing larger.

'Moons protect me,' J'shana whispered shakily, stepping backwards, terror starting to overcome her senses as she faced the five of them. Each of them was as large as a bear. She wondered if it was possible to even defeat those odds—she would have should she still have her powers, but they had vanished upon coming here and she had no way of getting them back again. That had what frightened J'shana the most. She had tried to Shout, to call on one of her abilities to protect her—and no great power had occurred, no miracle of the dragon's tongue. Nothing but a feeble yell.

The creatures fanned out, trying to surround her. J'shana knew that should they succeed in that endeavor she'd be finished. She moved back, moving in time with the creatures as they prowled in silence towards her, their spectral bodies glowing brightly against the lifeless grey surroundings.

When the first one leapt, J'shana whirled around, pulling back her bowstring and releasing the arrow as it approached her. The arrow found its mark, straight in the creature's head. It dissipated into the strange blue mist and vanished completely into the air, the arrow falling to the ground, but J'shana had no time to revel in her victory. It didn't seem to dishearten the beasts one bit. Two more leapt and J'shana wildly fired her next arrow at the second. By good luck it struck its stomach and once more it vanished. The third crashed against her, knocking her to the ground.

J'shana shoved it off, rolling back onto her feet. The spectral animal landed on its paws and without waiting it attacked again. J'shana's fingers found the fallen arrow, the one that had begun the battle in earnest, and threw herself backwards to evade the snapping jaws at the same time she pushed her hand upwards, tearing the creature from throat to stomach. It let out a pained whimper and vanished.

The remaining creatures lunged as one and J'shana barely saved herself. She was breathless already. She stumbled as she tried to push herself back onto her feet. One of the spectral creatures was fast—it leapt at her, and summoning her strength, J'shana slapped the creature over the head with the edge of the Nightingale Bow, knocking it away. But by doing so, she had thrown herself off balance, and too breathless to dodge, was bowled over by the other spectral dog. Its fangs, cold as the snows of Skyrim, bit into her arm and J'shana hissed with pain, wrenching it free. Coldness flooded into her body, making her shiver harder.

The spectral hound who had bitten her let out a soft husky hiss of triumph and prepared to move in for the killing blow. But J'shana had set an arrow to her bowstring once more and loosed it, watching as the arrow sped through the air and struck the creature through the eye. Despite the chilling and gripping cold that was flooding through every inch of her, J'shana smiled with pride. That was a Karliah kind of shot.

The beast dissipated, and she could see the strange, pulsing grey substance that it had somehow absorbed from her. It flooded back into her, and J'shana felt a good deal warmer very quickly, but not quite as before. She had learned from her first few encounters that these creatures were somehow able to drain her stamina, or health, or both, thus making them all the more dangerous and terrible.

J'shana glanced back at the last phantom creature. For a moment, she was almost tempted to tell it to run away, but she had tried that last time and it had nearly resulted in her...well, had nearly resulted her being killed by these beasts in the brief distraction that had held her.

The beast hissed, serpent-like, and prowled around, looking quite unfazed that it was now the last one left. J'shana pushed herself to her knees, pulling an arrow from her quiver and setting it quickly to the bowstring. She was trembling, not just from the cold, but from weariness. Battles like these seemed to exhaust her here, in a way that had never affected her in her home.

At last, the creature charged. J'shana raised her bow and fired. It leapt towards her—the arrow found its mark in its throat, and with a soft, protesting whimper, it vanished, the wraith-like body tearing apart and melting into the air.

Silence fell, and breathing heavily, her arm stinging where the beast had bitten her, J'shana remained on her knees, leaning on one arm and trying to catch her breath. She realized that she was silently crying—tears rolled from her eyes and wet the fur around her nose. This place...she was alone and scared and something had taken her abilities from her, drained her powers as Dragonborn. She felt like she understood nothing, and she was desperate to get home to her family.

Desperate.

_I can't give up now,_ she thought, shakily pushing herself to her feet. _What would Keeth say if he knew that I was on the verge of letting them take me?_

She was J'shana. She was a Tygra—a Tygra never gave up. A Tygra never surrendered. She was a Nightingale of Nocturnal, a leader of Guilds, a warrior, an assassin, and above all, a Dragonborn—she was the vanquisher of Alduin. She had faced down the darkness and she had triumphed. She was J'shana. She would get out of here.

A shout suddenly rang nearby—it was loud but without the power of the Voice, and J'shana, bemused, whipped around. The voice was female, and it was crying a Shout that she knew very well.

'WULD NAH KEST!'

And then suddenly there was a bone-chilling scream.

J'shana was stunned. _Am I not the only one?_

Then she was running, sprinting towards the sound of the voice, adrenalin pulsing through her and her tiredness nearly forgotten altogether. Beyond, there were the sounds of battle, the pounding of pawsteps, the snarl from those dreadful wraiths.

She ran through the fog, in time to stumble upon the scene. Three wraiths were closing in on a young woman who was lying on the ground, clutching her arm and staring at them with both defiance and uncertainty in her dark eyes.

'Go to Oblivion!' she snarled shakily at them, but her breath was coming in ragged gasps. It was clear she was in pain.

J'shana wasted no time. She set the arrow to the bowstring and loosed it at the nearest. The spectral creature didn't move in time, nor did it see the arrow coming until too late. In a flash it had vanished and the two others now turned their attention to her, delighted at their good luck.

They charged as one. J'shana swiftly took down the second, and sprang out of the way of the third's attack. Stumbling a little on landing, J'shana straightened. The beast was nearly on top of her. She slammed the Nightingale Bow across its head, disorientating it and making it stagger backwards.

But then it was attacking her once again, with astonishing speed. J'shana leapt out the way of its snapping jaws, but it countered with shocking ability, so fast that it nearly knocked J'shana onto the ground.

It was faster and stronger than the others. J'shana had a strong feeling that this was the beast that had wounded the other woman—and now it was intent on killing her. It lunged, jaws snapping, close to closing on her arm.

J'shana threw herself out of the way, rolled, and leapt back onto her feet. The beast was prowling towards her. Swiftly she pulled an arrow from her quiver but the beast, sensing danger, was leaping forwards, lunging at her throat, taking J'shana completely by surprise. She leapt out of its way only just in time. She was breathless.

_It fights like a warrior,_ she thought in confusion. _Always learning..._

The phantom landed easily on all four paws, not in the least tired. It was preparing to lunge again, when suddenly J'shana sensed movement nearby. She glanced quickly over her shoulder. The woman was pushing herself onto her feet, her face pale and lined with tiredness, but determination and rage glittering in her eyes. She wielded a long, slender blade that somehow was familiar to J'shana.

'Come on,' she hissed at the creature. '_Come on!_'

The beast snarled and raced towards her. J'shana was tempted, for a moment, to shoot it down as it ran, but common sense told her that to interfere in a Nord's battle that they had made clear was their own was unwise. She had accepted her help in the beginning—and now it was time to fend for herself.

The wraith leapt and J'shana thought for a moment the woman was going to be killed. It was nearly on top of her.

But the woman skillfully leapt to the side. The creature landed beside her, and made to move again, but already the Ebony Blade was swishing downwards. With a huff of effort, the woman severed the creature's head, and its ethereal body vanished as it...died. Or dematerialized. Something.

There was a thick smoky grey substance that was left, and it returned to the woman, whose breathing eased a little. She still looked exhausted, though. She sank to her knees, the Ebony Blade rolling from her grasp.

J'shana hurried towards her. 'Are you all right?'

The woman snapped a cautious-eyed stare towards her. She didn't relax upon meeting her gaze, and answered in a low, hoarse voice, 'I'm not sure.'

It took a few seconds for J'shana to remember what had drawn her to this woman in the first place.

'You were speaking in the dragon's tongue. Trying to use Whirlwind Sprint.'

The woman looked as surprised as J'shana felt. Then she frowned. 'You...you knew what Shout I was trying to use?' Suspicion clouded her words. 'You knew I was trying to Shout at all? We've never met. Who are you?'

'My name is J'shana Tygra.' J'shana flattened her ears uncertainly. 'And...well, I knew you were trying to Shout, because...I can do it. I mean, I could. I can't seem to do it here...'

The woman was silent, trying to figure things out.

'You mean to say, you're Dragonborn, too?' she asked at last.

_You're Dragonborn?_

J'shana slowly nodded. Nothing seemed to be making any sense at the moment.

After a moment she extended a hand and the woman took it. She rose onto her feet, picking up the Ebony Blade and slipping it into its sheath.

'Who did you say you were again?'

'J'shana Tygra. And you are...?'

The woman paused for a moment. Then, very slowly, and very warily, she said, 'Kajsa. Kajsa Red-Blade.' She sounded as if she really didn't want to say it.

She was shivering, but trying hard to conceal it. J'shana, despite herself, felt a flash of concern for her. The creature must have absorbed a lot of her strength.

After a moment, Kajsa asked cautiously, 'Do you know what's going on here? I...I haven't been through weirder experiences than when I went to Solstheim.'

J'shana shook her head. 'Me neither. And no, I...I'm not sure what's going on.'

'Do you know what the creatures are?'

'No.'

'Do you know what this place is?'

'No.'

'Do you know _anything?_'

J'shana flattened her ears in anger at the scathing in Kajsa's voice. '_No_. So stop asking.'

Kajsa was silent, and then she nodded. 'You're right. I'm sorry.' Slowly she exhaled. 'I'm just...just cautious. I hate this place. It feels as though I've been here forever. I want to go home, that's all.'

After a second, she asked, 'I wonder what they are, though. The creatures. This is the fifth time that they've found and attacked me. Each time's growing harder to fend them off.'

J'shana flattened her ears. 'I hate them. They've attacked me numerous times as well.'

Kajsa was thoughtful. 'Every time I slay them...more simply return.' She let out a wearisome sigh. 'I don't think this is ever going to end...'

'But we mustn't give up,' J'shana growled, lashing her tail.

Kajsa's eyes flashed. 'Whatever gave you that idea?' she inquired drily.

Her eyes drifted to the Nightingale Bow, and Kajsa frowned. She said in bemusement, 'That...where did you get that?'

J'shana paused. 'From a friend. I've been using it for years.'

'It's just that I have a bow...that's identical to that one.' Kajsa frowned. 'A woman named Karliah gave it to me...'

J'shana's eyes widened. 'The same for me. You know Karliah?'

'Of course I know her. I'm leader of the Thieves Guild...'

'But you can't be. I am...'

They stared at each other. Both of them were very confused.

Before either could speak again, a chilling shriek sounded nearby, haunting and echoing and making J'shana's fur prickle. She whipped around, her tail lashing in alarm. Kajsa tightened her grip around the handle of the Ebony Blade.

'They're coming,' J'shana whispered quietly.

Kajsa shifted her position nearby. Her eyes were narrowed, her brow furrowed once more. 'Two blades—well, a blade and a bow—are better than one,' she murmured. 'Shall we set aside our eerie similarities until we're out of immediate danger?'

J'shana nodded. 'Good idea.'

And silently, they waited.

* * *

Alyssa hadn't realized she had dozed off until she opened her eyes and found herself lying on the floor. She lifted her head—she was stunned. She hadn't slept since she had died. The dead didn't need to sleep, and spirits were tireless. Then she remembered that she was in Pass, the in-between, and while here, both living and non-living traits affected her.

She pushed herself into a sitting position, feeling somewhat more refreshed, but still cold. Morwyn was sitting at the entrance of the tunnel, staring out at the greyish lands beyond. She seemed to be thinking.

Alyssa pushed herself upright. Her body felt stiff, and as she stretched, she felt a shiver run down her backbone. A familiar cool feeling flooded into her veins. Stifling another shiver, she drew her Cloak further around her, her cobalt and cyan robes falling around her. The fabric was heavy and comfortable and soft, but she could draw no warmth from it.

Morwyn glanced over her shoulder. 'You all right?' she asked.

Alyssa nodded, pushing herself to her feet. 'Just cold.'

'You're not alone there.'

Alyssa joined her at the entrance of the tunnel. Beyond lay a murky world that was beginning to bear stunning resemblance to the Soul Cairn. The sky was even starting to become a little stormy.

After a moment, Alyssa asked quietly, 'Do you think there are others, struggling to survive here? Who don't have places of sanctuary?'

Morwyn shrugged. 'Probably.'

'Shouldn't we help them? The cave's quite large.'

Morwyn glowered. 'It'll bring all the creatures straight here.'

'So why did you save me?'

Again, she shrugged. 'You're just one.'

'But you've seen why they hunt me. What this menace wants from me. I'm surprised you didn't just throw me out while I slept.'

'If I were Avalon or Neva, I probably would've done that. But I'm not. I see no honour in leaving you to the mercy of creatures you can't even kill.'

The names were familiar. Alyssa remembered Morwyn had mentioned them earlier. Neva was a "batshit crazy" one, and Avalon was the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood.

'Can you tell me about your sisters?'

Morwyn snorted. 'Of course I can,' she said shortly. 'They're my sisters. Who else better knows them? But I don't want to.'

Alyssa sighed. 'Sorry. It's just...well, I haven't met someone who despises their siblings. Especially their sisters.'

Morwyn glanced at her. 'I don't hate Avalon,' she corrected her. 'Only Neva.'

'Why?'

'Would telling her that she was with the Thalmor when I killed her satisfy you?'

Alyssa stiffened. 'Oh, yes,' she snarled. 'It does.'

Morwyn quirked one corner of her eyebrow.

'You have a grudge against the Thalmor, too?'

Alyssa nodded darkly. 'They killed my family.'

Morwyn slowly nodded. 'Ah. That'd explain it.'

A few moments passed sullenly between them. Then Alyssa glanced at Morwyn and asked, 'Was Neva...was she as cruel as the other Thalmor?'

'Boethiah claimed her at birth,' Morwyn explained. 'And it was her very nature to be ruthless and power-hungry as my...' She broke off, and then continued more carefully, 'Avalon was claimed by Meridia. She was a born assassin. Morag Tong, then Brotherhood.'

Alyssa was surprised. 'But those two organizations are fierce enemies.'

'I know. But Avalon had her reasons for joining the Brotherhood.'

'And what about you? Were you claimed by a Daedric Prince?'

'Aye. Sheogorath.'

Alyssa, again, was surprised. 'Oh.'

Morwyn threw her a glance, and she sounded amused. 'What? You didn't expect a _noble Dragonborn_ to be claimed at birth by the madgod?'

'I...well, that's one way of putting it,' said Alyssa, sheepishly.

Morwyn snorted, but a tiny smirk was working its way over her face. 'If you had seen me in my element,' she stated, 'I'm certain that you would have called me mad. But when it comes to a big, bloody battle, I'm anything but.' Her eyes grew bright. 'That would be when the fire would show through.'

'And I'm guessing you had some pretty big and bloody battles in life.'

Morwyn nodded. 'Oh, yes. Plenty. Signed on with the Companions, then went after Alduin, spent six years cooling my heels in Windhelm as a member of the army and then joined the Thieves Guild.'

Alyssa frowned. 'Lots of big and bloody battles to be found with a Guild of thieves, eh?' she inquired drily.

Morwyn let out a bout of bark-like laughter. 'You'd be surprised!'

Alyssa smiled a little herself. 'And after the Guild, then what did you do?'

Morwyn's mirth faded a little. 'I became their Guildmaster,' she stated. 'And Whiterun became the next target on Ulfric's list. So I went. A huge battle came about. I faced Ulfric's armies. I faced Ulfric, again. And we fought. And we died.'

'Ulfric killed you?'

Morwyn snorted. 'Like it was so hard for him. Bastard had allied himself with the Thalmor, believe it or not.'

Alyssa stared. 'Permit my saying I'd find it immensely hard to believe that Ulfric would join the Thalmor.'

'Tell me about it,' Morwyn snarled. 'But he got what he deserved in the end. Hope he's rotting somewhere in the Deadlands.' There was heat and anger in her voice, so much of it, even absent of her inner dragon, that made Alyssa aware of just how angry and hateful she was of him.

'You sound as though you have a grudge against him.'

'You wouldn't know the half of it,' Morwyn stated bitterly. Her eyes flashed. 'And I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind. I liked you better when you were asleep.'

'Sorry.' Alyssa dipped her head and turned away, her eyes straying once more to the restless, churning world that lay beyond.

When a few moments passed, Morwyn asked more calmly, 'Did you have anyone you cared about when you left them behind? When you died?'

Alyssa nodded. 'Oh, yes. Many. Did you?'

'Enough. But you first. Who did you leave?'

Alyssa slowly sighed out. 'The Guild. I miss them—especially Karliah. The Companions. Aela was like a sister to me in the time I knew her, and the twins, brothers I never had. But my own family—my husband, and my daughter.'

'You had a daughter?' Morwyn sounded curious. 'What's her name?'

'Freia. And Ralof, my husband...I guess you know him?'

'Oh, I know him. Good friend of mine—and he and I cleared out Blackreach together, when I was hunting down an Elder Scroll. But he wasn't my fiancé in life.'

'So who was?'

'Brynjolf.' If Alyssa wasn't mistaken, a touch of humility had come into Morwyn's voice. The Dunmer was smiling a little.

'Bryn? Seriously?' Alyssa stared at her, and grinned. 'Forgive me, I was expecting someone...'

'With what?' Morwyn was smirking. 'Someone with grey skin?' She let out another bout of laughter. 'Ha! I was mad, and he was sensible—as sensible as any Nord man can be in a Guild of thieves. We balanced each other. And I didn't ask. He did. Although...I'd say that he could be mad at times, too. Have you heard of the Clansmen of Falkreath Hold?'

Alyssa frowned. 'The what?'

'Bryn was one,' Morwyn went on. 'And they used to go charging into battle stark raving naked.'

Alyssa laughed—she couldn't help it, the idea was completely ridiculous. 'And Bryn did that!?'

'Well...no. And thank _God_.' Morwyn laughed too.

'Good. I'd be very alarmed if Bryn had gone charging into Irkngthand like that.'

The idea was so ridiculous to the pair of them that they both laughed. When they finally had the sense to calm down a little before they attracted more wraith things back, they both felt a little more comfortable.

'You know,' commented Alyssa, 'I haven't had a laugh like that in a long time.'

'Nor I,' Morwyn admitted. She frowned in puzzlement. 'I suppose that's what happens when you're dead. You lose a lot of traits that you bear by nature when you're alive. And you exist as a somber spirit when you're dead.'

'Somber? The moment I died, I took flight and let the inner dragon take over.'

Morwyn frowned. 'Your "inner dragon" was what destroyed you.'

Alyssa sighed. 'What you saw was not my inner dragon—only the blemished part of me. It fed off my soul but it couldn't corrupt me completely. I let it consume my body but freed my soul. But whenever I take this shape, I wear the Cloak to hide it.'

'Which reminds me...how _did_ you get that Cloak?'

'My Father gave it to me. He wove it from his own heartscales and blessed me with it. Now it stays with me, always. As you saw, it conceals my scars through powerful means.'

Morwyn snorted. 'Good thing, too. Else I might've mistaken you for one of the abominations here in this...this Pass place.'

'I wouldn't be surprised,' muttered Alyssa quietly.

They fell into silence and Alyssa allowed her thoughts to take her. Remembering how she met Morwyn, she wondered why her wristblades wouldn't work against the wraiths. They had never failed her in the past. They had been one of the last weapons that she had used in life. She quietly examined them. They were still in perfect functioning condition. The blades were sharp and solid as they ever were. So why weren't they effective here?

But Morwyn had mentioned something about knights, too. People who didn't seem to be affected by the weapons that Morwyn carried.

'Morwyn,' said Alyssa, 'tell me more about these knights that you keep encountering.'

Morwyn curled her lip. 'Not much to say,' she said. 'Except that my weapons don't work on them. I hit them—but it doesn't do them any pain, no damage, nothing. I was damned lucky I got to this place in time. If not...'

'Did their weapons work on you?'

'Of course. They haven't cut me yet, but their steel is freaking solid...and _weird_.'

Alyssa stared at her. 'Weird?' she echoed.

'It didn't feel...quite right. Like it didn't belong here.'

Alyssa glanced quickly at her bracers.

'And you said that they were speaking in a different language?'

'Well, only the ones with the red cross on their helmets. Some of them looked like Penitus Oculatus agents, to be honest. From a distance. I'm probably wrong...and they certainly have no quarrel with me. They're looking for someone else, though. Someone called "Dragonrider", I think.' Morwyn snorted. 'Probably another Dragonborn...'

But Alyssa had gone very quiet and very cold—not in the draining way the wraith had on her, but a grim and dark realization.

'Oh, shit,' she muttered.

Morwyn glanced at her. 'What is it?'

Alyssa clicked out her wristblades. Still in working order. Good. She had a very strong feeling that she'd need them very soon.


	3. Vostrunmahsille

**A/N: OK, guys, these are in the perspectives of Kajsa and Tiberia, who I've never written in the perspective of before until now - the original authors seem content, which is a relief...but it's always up to the readers! I hope you enjoy...**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Kajsa wasn't entirely certain what she thought about this J'shana character. Yes, her arrival had been very coincidental—and it had saved her skin—but she didn't quite understand how the young Khajiit woman had acquired the Nightingale Bow, claimed to be Dragonborn or even was Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild. Yes, it was the same Guild in Riften, J'shana had affirmed that, and her status as Nightingale proved this too.

She seemed nice enough, unusually wise for one so young, and she certainly had the base knowledge of a Dragonborn. She knew the Shouts, what they could do when one trained in that way Shouted them.

_But until I find out why I've met...some kind of...parallel counterpart..._Kajsa narrowed her eyes at the mere thought. She had seen bizarre things on Solstheim, true. She thought she was the only Dragonborn...then she had met one who had the same powers as her. Undeniably she had been a little jealous, and very peeved off when he kept stealing the souls from the dragons _she_ had slain—but one thing was certain: after she defeated him, she had felt glad of the task. That she was the world's only Dragonborn again.

J'shana claimed to have killed Miraak, too. Kajsa wondered if J'shana had done anything that she herself hadn't done.

_It's eerie,_ she thought. _It's almost as though I'm seeing myself in the skin of a Khajiit...with a bit of a personality change, though. J'shana doesn't seem to mind being around me. Concerned for me. But she does archery. She's a thief. She's an assassin. She's, more importantly, a Dragonborn._

Kajsa sighed softly. There was no end to her troubles.

There was no denying that J'shana was a skilled fighter. Kajsa was ashamed to say that her skills in archery outmatched her own, but when it came to the use of blades, she was the master. While J'shana moved in light armour, Kajsa was agile in heavy. By her natural build, J'shana was agile but not as strong, and Kajsa was strong but not as agile, by her own nature as half-Nord.

Above the sky was starting to churn. Wisp of cloud were seemingly filling the sky. It gave this horrid place an even more eerie look about it. Kajsa was starting to detest it, as much as she detested Orthorien. She hated this place. It felt so...so _wrong_. Like things were not meant to be here.

'Kajsa!'

The Khajiit's voice broke through Kajsa's thoughts, and she looked up to see that J'shana was standing at the top of a rise. She was staring out at something she could see from that point. Kajsa narrowed her eyes.

'What is it?'

'You're not going to believe this...I can't describe it to you!'

Kajsa was wary, but she climbed the slope nonetheless. It felt steep beneath her fingers. The strange, heavy snow that felt like ash beneath her hands slid away from her beneath her weight, and for a moment Kajsa was irritated that she was wearing the Ebony Mail—of all armours she had to wear while climbing a slope, it _had_ to be made of ebony. Still, she managed to climb up it, and walked to J'shana's side.

'What is it?' she repeated.

'Look.' J'shana turned her eyes back to what she had been watching earlier. Kajsa did the same—and her breath was taken away.

She was staring down at a huge valley, ridged by enormous cliffs. Kajsa realized she and J'shana were standing on the edge of the cliff, and staring down into some kind of enormous dale. It was truly huge—as large as the largest Hold in Skyrim, to be certain. The place was stripped of trees and was as barren and as stony as a mountain in Markarth. The cliffs seemed too rise three or four hundred metres from the ground.

The core of the valley was filled with a kind of swirling essence, blue-grey in colour. Huge and pulsating like a sleepy sun, it hovered there. Long shadows were thrown from anything that was gathered around it, and by the way Kajsa thought some of the shadows moved, there were people down there.

'What is it?' whispered J'shana in awe. 'Who are they?' So she had seen the people, too.

'Why don't you go down to those people down there and ask them?' Kajsa suggested drily.

J'shana threw her a narrowed-eye glance, and then turned away.

'It looks almost like magic,' she said wonderingly.

Kajsa looked up above the swirling mass. She realized that she had missed something that was so painfully obvious she felt half-blind. Right above the mass of swirly blue-grey, in the sky, was...well, Kajsa thought it was some kind of mouth, but maybe it was a portal. At the moment, she felt that she could only describe it as a hole. Its core was black, but dark red and purple strands of colour seemed to bleed from its edges. Those strands were swirling into the mass of blue and grey, and strands of blue and grey were being fed into the edges of the strange black hole. Its edges were churning restlessly like wild stormclouds.

'Sweet Talos,' Kajsa whispered.

J'shana was staring at it as well. She flattened her ears. Her bright orange eyes were wide with undisguised terror.

'Something terrible is going on here,' she whispered.

'Really?' inquired Kajsa sarcastically. 'I thought that they were watching a pretty lights show.'

J'shana glared at her. 'Don't you understand?' she hissed. 'This, whatever it is, could be the reason why we're here at all in this place!'

'I do understand,' answered Kajsa irritably. 'But I'm just not saying it.'

J'shana sighed, turning her attention back to the strange lights.

'The blue-grey,' she said quietly. 'It's familiar...I think.'

Kajsa frowned suddenly. 'J'shana...what do you notice most about the bluish-grey blob there?'

J'shana hesitated. 'I...I'm not sure what you're asking. It's like some kind of giant spirit, I guess, but it's as shapeless and as bright as a Candlelight spell and as restless as a whirlwind.'

'Not its shape, its _colour_. I want to make sure I'm not just seeing things.'

'What are you seeing?' J'shana demanded.

'The fact that there's more grey than blue.'

J'shana looked carefully at the mass of blue-grey. Then, her ears flicked forward.

'I see it, too. There is more grey than blue.' She looked at Kajsa. 'Why does this concern you?'

'What colour is our energy when it's restored to us, after we kill those phantoms?'

J'shana's eyes widened. She stared back at the blue-grey mass.

'Do you think...? Are you saying...?' she faltered.

'We don't ever get it completely back,' Kajsa affirmed grimly. 'We get most, but not all. And now we know why.'

* * *

_'Nol yol se Aaz, Vedod se kiin, Zahrahmiik se Dov, alok._'

Tiberia's eyes widened with recognition.

'_Alok, feyn se dez, ahrk kos Sunvaarseyollokke._'

_What the hell?_

Tiberia's surroundings became apparent to her. She seemed to be standing in someplace that was both immensely dark, and yet visible, because she seemed to know where things were lying. There were stones...the air was warm, not cold. And there was a soft, dreamy rumbling within the ground beneath her feet.

_Where am I?_ she wondered. This didn't look like Pass...or whatever it was Alyssa called that place.

The air felt contentedly warm—so warm that she was tempted to lie down on the floor and soak it up. It felt as though it had been forever since last she had felt this way. But she didn't—she felt unusually cautious, as though she were intruding on something that she knew she wasn't meant to see.

And that was when she noticed what lay at the end of the strange, stone room.

'A word wall,' she breathed, aware how loud her voice seemed to sound.

She began to approach it. Something soft sifted beneath her feet, and glancing down at it, she recognized it. Ash. The ground was completely covered in warm ash...and ash that seemed to be fresh, too.

At the end of the room, she saw the runes of the word wall glowing. For a moment, Tiberia wondered why it looked stranger than before.

Then she realized that it was mainly because _all_ the runes were glowing.

'What the hell?' she repeated, out loud this time.

'_Dreh ni kos voth faas_.' A voice rumbled around the room, bearing the huskiness of an ancient whisper.

Tiberia hesitated—and again, that felt _very_ unlike her. Since when did she _hesitate?_ _It's as though I'm someone...someone different._

She glanced over her shoulder. 'Since when would I be afraid?' she demanded. Ah. That was more like it.

There was a soft chuckle. It whispered throughout the entire chamber. '_Pruzah. Hio kos faal Sunvaarseyollokke._'

Tiberia felt a shudder go down the length of her backbone. It was then that she realized...she couldn't understand it. Barely any word of Draconic...she didn't understand. She had known Draconic ever since she had succumbed to Alduin's Fire of Mercy...ever since she grew from a hatchling to a wyrm.

'Who are you?' she asked at last.

'_Zu'u faal Zii do faal Vedod_,' it answered. '_Zu'u hio alok nol_.'

Tiberia glanced back at the runes. 'I...I don't understand.' Damn it. Again with the hesitation. What was with this?

'_Hiu lost sizaan hin dovahsil_,' murmured the whisper. '_Faas ni. Nii fen kos siiv, daal wah hio. Dahmaan zu...zu'u hin vahlok._'

Tiberia felt shivers run down her spine. Just listening to this voice...it was ancient, she sensed. Very, very ancient.

'_Hio kos joor,_' the voice went on. '_Krent. Sahlo. Vevoth dovahsos. Vevoth vahrukt. Zu rotte vanmidoraan wah hio, ahst daar tiid. Gein sul, hio fen mindok zu tinvaak. Gein sul, hio fen kos faal Sunvaarseyollokke._'

Silence descended for a moment, but the whispers rang in Tiberia's mind. They bored into her head, words that would remain in her memory...words she didn't understand. Until the day she remembered how to speak Draconic. _Which had better be soon, Gods-damn it, or there would be Mehrunes Dagon to pay!_

'You know of the prophecy?' she asked, completely confused as to why she was keeping her voice hushed with awe. This thing, whatever it was, could speak in the tongue of the dragons. That meant it could only be kin to them in some way—an equal. So why did she feel so excited, so afraid...so _mortal?_

'_Geh_,' the whisper answered. '_Zu mindok do faal qostiid, _Tiberia Morwyn.'

Tiberia jumped, stunned. 'Who taught you that name?'

'_Zu mindok pogaas. Hio kos fron wah zu,_' the voice murmured. '_Kiin do faal Vedod, faal Yol se Aaz. Fron do faal Kruziik Strunmahven do Yolsos._'

The runes glowed within the word wall, drawing Tiberia's attention to them once more. She slowly moved forward towards them. She could hear soft whispers ringing in her mind, resonating. It was whispering her prophecy to her.

'_Qostiid,_' the voice said. '_Dahmaan faal qostiid. Dahmaan nii loost prodah. Hio kos faal Sunvaarseyolloke. Ont aan dovah, mahfaeraak aan dovah. Mahfaeraak faal Sunvaarseyollokke. Mahfaeraak Dovahkiin._'

The ashes stirred beneath Tiberia's feet. The runes died, their own hissed chant falling into silence. She glanced down—heat was rising, and around her, the stones were stirring. She could sense a presence in the darkness that lay beyond. Something, she felt, with another completely uncharacteristic shiver of awe, was awakening.

'I don't know what you're saying now,' Tiberia said aloud. 'Or even what you are. But I'm trapped. I've lost my powers. How do I reclaim them? Do you know that much?'

'_Zu dreh nii mindok,_' the whisper responded. '_Zu fen tiinvak hio daar: __**Yah faal Dovahkiinne; Kosvahlok faal Yuvon Dovah; Siiv faal Vostrunmahsille.**__ Dahmaan wo hio kos,_ Tiberia Morwyn._ Dahmaan faal qostiin._ _Dahmaan zu._'

Tiberia watched as the ground began to tear apart. A great heat rose from within. A cloud of ash rose into the air, and within, a mighty shadow moved. She pressed herself against the rune wall as the stone began to split and crumble into dust.

Within, the creature was rising.

'Who are you?' Tiberia shouted. 'What are you!?'

But she received no response. An unearthly melody filled the air. A tide of shadow rose towards her, and Tiberia covered her eyes to protect them as a tide of ash swallowed her whole.

She awoke with a strangled gasp. For a moment, she lay completely still...and when she felt she could move again, she sat up so quickly that her head cracked against something very hard and very solid.

'Ow...what...bloody hell!?'

'Morwyn, are you all right?'

Stars flashing in front of her eyes, Tiberia rubbed the back of her head, which was throbbing quite painfully. She heard movement nearby and looked up for a moment.

'I'm fine,' she answered stiffly. 'Just...waking up.'

Alyssa, who was formerly looking concerned, suddenly laughed.

'If you whack your head on a word wall to wake yourself up each day, then I wouldn't want to be you at all.'

Tiberia frowned. By the Daedra, her head was splitting in two...

She glanced over her shoulder to affirm that there was a word wall behind her. There was. For a moment, Tiberia was wondering why she had gone to sleep in front of a word wall. Of all things! Then, she realized it was the only thing in this cave that formed the complete end of it. Thus, she had gone to sleep in front of it to get away from those freezing winds at the mouth of the tunnel as possible.

'You are all right though, aren't you?'

'I'm fine,' Tiberia said, as she pushed herself more carefully into a sitting position, and wondering vaguely why she slept in her armour, but not her helmet. It would have proven very useful at this point of time.

Alyssa sighed. 'Good.' She sat down beside her. 'There were creatures outside.'

'And you didn't wake me?'

Alyssa gave Tiberia a look. 'More of those wraiths, yes. But you were asleep! And you weren't waking up, so...I handled them. It gave me time to test a theory I've been thinking over ever since you told me about those knights.' She flicked her left wrist—Tiberia watched with interest as a blade abruptly slid out from the black Thieves Guild bracer she wore on that arm, skimming over the backhand guard and over her knuckles, glinting in the lightless tunnel. _Those look useful..._ 'So I attacked them, and just like last time, these wouldn't work on them.' Alyssa's voice was quiet, frustrated.

Tiberia leaned against the stone wall. 'Any idea why?' she yawned.

'I had a theory,' Alyssa stated, sending the blade whisking back beneath the bracer again. 'And I wanted to test it. When my wristblades wouldn't work, I borrowed your sword and attacked them with that—'

'Wait—you used my sword?' Tiberia said indignantly. 'Don't you know that a woman's sword is sacred? Give me a good reason why I'm not kicking you out of here!'

'I tried to rouse you,' Alyssa defended mildly. 'But you were deep asleep. And it wasn't as though you were in immediate need of it.' She looked at her levelly. 'And don't you want to know what I found out?'

Tiberia rolled her eyes but consented, with a final mutter she knew Alyssa would be able to catch: 'You had better not have scratched it.'

'I was able to kill the wraiths with the sword, and not my wristblades,' Alyssa explained. 'Or...drive them away, or whatever happens to them when you run them through. Somehow, your sword _worked_ on them!'

'I think we already figured that out,' Tiberia stated drily. 'So what's your point?' She really dragged things out, didn't she?

'My point,' said Alyssa, 'is that the wraiths can only be affected by weapons that have been created in the world where they come from.'

Tiberia frowned a little at this theory. 'And by world, you mean...?'

'Skyrim—Tamriel—Nirn.' Alyssa showed the bracers. 'These are not from Nirn. They're from another world.'

Tiberia glanced back at Alyssa, doubtful. 'You've been to another world?' she asked dubiously. 'You mean...you got them from Sovngarde, or something?'

'Sovngarde is still in Nirn,' Alyssa said impatiently. 'I got these from when I passed through the Vortex into the next world. I've been using them ever since I first received them but they were never of my world. They were of another. That's why they won't work on the wraiths—because the wraiths are of our world, and my wristblades of another.'

Tiberia stared at her and said as bluntly as she could, 'You're mad.'

Alyssa deflated a little, and glared at her. 'You're mad in not believing me,' she snapped. 'I know who those knights are—the ones who you say you can't kill. Why? Because _they're_ of a different world. Because the weapons of one world can't affect the beings of another.'

'You honestly expect me to believe that?' Tiberia demanded. 'You don't have any evidence—you've done this all while I've been asleep!' _And dreaming...really weird dreams._ 'Maybe if you could kill one of these knights with your...your spring-blades, or whatever they're meant to be on your arms, then I'd listen.'

Alyssa sighed impatiently. 'Look, Morwyn, I know I'm right—'

'Has it occurred to you that perhaps you're not?'

A heavy and awkward silence fell between them.

Tiberia sighed, breaking it. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to snap.'

Alyssa shrugged. 'Forget it.'

'Look, I had the weirdest dream just now, and I can't make any sense of the damn thing. It's pissing me off.'

'Dream about what?'

'Good question.' Tiberia wondered if she'd ever find out. Maybe not until the day she recovered her lost abilities...and yet she sensed that that...whisper, that creature, whatever had been dwelling in those ashes, had found the answers then and there.

But she saw that she had piqued Alyssa's interest. 'Do you remember it?'

'Yeah. All of it, clear as day.' Tiberia rubbed her head. She could see the images happening all over again. This was probably how Farkas felt when he kept having visions due to his ability of the Sight.

'Do you think it's important?' Alyssa asked.

Tiberia nodded. 'It was speaking in Draconic.'

' "It"?' Alyssa echoed.

'Some...some creature from the ashes, I think. I was in this dark chamber, where everything was made of stone, and the floor was covered with ash. And at the end of the room was a word wall.' Tiberia paused at this, wondering if she should tell Alyssa about her prophecy. What she had become when it was fulfilled.

Alyssa frowned. 'Did you absorb something from it?'

Tiberia nodded again. 'A prophecy.'

'The Dragonborn's?'

'No. A prophecy that was mine, and a prophecy that I was told by Paarthurnax after I defeated Alduin.' What the hell. They were both Dragonborn—they might as well both know. 'The creature in the ashes was telling me something, and I swear that it was telling me something important...but it was speaking entirely in Draconic, and while can remember what it said, I can't actually understand what it was saying the whole damn time.'

Alyssa frowned.

'You mean, you never learned the dragon's tongue?'

Tiberia sighed impatiently. 'I _did_,' she said. 'I knew how to fluently speak it like a true dragon after my Fire of Mercy...'

'Your _what?_'

Tiberia stared at Alyssa. 'You've never heard of it?'

Alyssa shook her head. 'What is it?'

'Well...it's how a dragon grows. When they succumb to the Fire of Mercy, they change from a hatchling to a wyrm. And that's what happened to me. Alduin gave me the Fire of Mercy and I...I changed. Like you, but I think for the better...of sorts.'

Alyssa frowned, thinking things through. 'So...when you received this...Fire of Mercy,' she said slowly, 'you...learned the entire dragon's tongue?'

'I knew it. It was just there.' Tiberia glanced at her. 'I'd have expected the same to have happened to you. You've never grown? You've never had the Fire of Mercy?'

Alyssa shook her head. 'No. I learned the dragon's tongue—well, some of it—from my father when I was a child. Then I gained the rest of the knowledge simply from stealing dragon souls from across Skyrim. In my lifetime I killed about ninety or something dragons.'

Tiberia stared at her. 'Your...your father taught you the dragon's tongue?'

Alyssa nodded. 'He was like me. In fact, most of my family were like me, too.'

'What, _Dragonborns?_' Tiberia could hardly believe her ears.

'We bore the dragon blood. We could learn the dragon's tongue. We were Dragonborns—and that's why the Thalmor killed us,' Alyssa concluded bitterly. 'But back to the matter at hand, I think—some Draconic, the part I spent twenty-five years learning, is still in my head.'

Tiberia frowned. 'I knew parts of the dragon's tongue before the Fire of Mercy,' she stated. 'Now I know next to absolute nothing, without my powers. You seem to know a lot about what's going on—care to explain?'

Alyssa furrowed her brow thoughtfully. 'My guess,' she said, 'is that you learned words in the dragon's tongue before this Fire of Mercy from the dragon souls that you absorbed from slain dragons. Since we both seem devoid of our abilities, all that knowledge has gone as well. And you can speak all your other languages—the common tongue, and Dunmeris, and Daedric.'

Tiberia frowned. 'How'd you know I speak Daedric?'

'Oh—you do?' Alyssa sounded surprised. 'It was just a guess—there were Daedric runes carved all over your armour, so I presumed you could speak it if you could write it.'

_Fair enough._ 'So how do I still know my mother tongues?'

'Because you were taught them,' Alyssa explained. 'Not simply _given_ them. I was taught Draconic because my family were Dragonborns. The language had been taught to them and passed down through generations. Gods-damn it, I was sung entire lullabies in the dragon's tongue, my father was a fluent speaker, and spent half my childhood learning to speak it.'

She sat up a little. 'But back to this dream of yours. I might be able to translate a few words.'

Tiberia wasn't too certain if Alyssa's strange theories were true—she seemed to be full of strange theories at the moment—but she did want answers to what the strange creature in her dream had told her.

'It said before it left, "_Zu fen tiinvak hio daar: Yah faal Dovahkiinne; Kosvahlok faal Yuvon Dovah; Siiv faal Vostrunmahsille_".' It was surprisingly difficult trying to imitate the words. Tiberia wondered how she had managed to speak it so fluently and easily before. She glanced at Alyssa, whose frown had deepened. 'Understand anything, dragon girl?'

'_Zu fen tiinvak hio daar..._,' murmured Alyssa softly. She pronounced everything perfectly and Tiberia glared at her for doing so. 'I will...I will talk...no! I will _tell_ you...I will tell you _this_.' More confidently she said, 'I will tell you this. It was passing on a message, Morwyn. What you said next...it was a message.'

Tiberia was still trying to figure out how exactly Alyssa came from a Dragonborn family. Damn! And here, she'd only been born into a House of power-mad Dark Elves. 'Do you know what the message said?' she asked.

'I can't translate everything,' said Alyssa, in frustration. 'But I can translate some. _Dovahkiinne_...Dragonborns. It seemed to know, whatever it was, that there would be more than one. But _Yah_...what does _yah_ mean? Hunt? No...not hunt. Surely not. We can't _hunt_ the Dragonborns. We've already got spectral mutts doing that for us. But...something, the Dragonborns. _Kosvahlok_...truthfully, I have no idea what that means, but _Yuvon Dovah_. I'd know that in my sleep—_Golden Dragon._' She paused. 'Are you serious? Did it truly say _Yuvon Dovah?_'

'I'm not exactly greatly knowledgeable on Draconic at this current time,' Tiberia said irritably.

'Because if it was saying _Yuvon Dovah_, then it could only have been talking about Akatosh, surely.' Alyssa shook her head in bemusement. 'And I'm not sure what Akatosh would have anything to do with our current situation. Pass is a place that the Aedra are unable to access.'

'So, so far, we have "something _the Dragonborns_, something _Akatosh_",' Tiberia listed off. 'Is that all you could translate? That hasn't helped terribly much.'

'Yes. The last part.' Alyssa frowned. '_Strunmah_ is _mountain_. And _sil_ is _soul_. Vo- is the un- prefix equivalent. Essentially...it's saying _un-mountain_. But what could possibly be an un-mountain?'

'There isn't such thing as an un-mountain,' said Tiberia. 'And how the hell do you know dragon _grammar?_'

Alyssa smirked. 'My grandfather was very pedantic in grammar, in all the languages,' she commented. 'And he drilled it into my head until I got it. Not that it was the hardest thing to remember. But _un-mountain of souls_...what could it possibly have meant by that?' She rubbed her temples, thinking hard.

Tiberia frowned. 'Surely an "un-mountain" would be something that's the opposite of a mountain, right?'

Alyssa paused. 'That's...that makes sense,' she said slowly, lowering her hand. 'And what's the opposite of a mountain?'

'A hole?'

Alyssa glanced at Tiberia.

'Yes...a hole...' Something seemed to register. Tiberia saw the realization come into her bright green eyes. 'A chasm...a gully...a pit...a well...things that are found underground, not overground! You've solved it, Morwyn!'

_I have?_ she thought in surprise. _Logic is _not_ my strong suit for the daughter of a madgod..._

'Are you sure?' Tiberia asked. 'A...a well of souls? That's what the thing was trying to tell me?'

Alyssa nodded. 'I'm certain. A well of souls.' She closed her eyes and murmured once again in the dragon's tongue, '_Siiv faal Vostrunmahsille_. Something...something _the well of souls. Siiv..._come on, you should know this! How many times has Father told me to _siiv_ something...?'

She broke off, stunned. Her face was very white.

'_Find_,' she whispered. 'It means to find.'

Tiberia waited in silence.

'_Find the Well of Souls_,' murmured Alyssa. 'That's the last part of the message. Was there any more to it?'

Tiberia stared at her. 'How the hell can you translate what it said and I can't?' she complained.

Alyssa smirked. 'Advantages of having a grandfather and a father who spoke it fluently, and an older sister who had five years' prior knowledge of the language. But as I was saying...?'

'Not much...it kept saying _dahmaan_, though. Throughout the entire conversation.'

'_Dahmaan_...no, it's not one that I know.'

'It said to me at the end, "_Dahmaan faal qostiin. Dahmaan zu_",' said Tiberia.

Alyssa sighed. 'I can't help there much. Something _the_ something. Something _me_.'

'That really helps.'

Alyssa leaned back, looking unusually satisfied. 'Think of what we've deciphered so far, though. The message – _I will tell you this: _Something _the Dragonborns; _Something_ Akatosh_; _Find the Well of Souls._'

Tiberia frowned. 'Well, I suppose it's a start, anyway. But until we figure out what the two other parts are, it's nearly useless. What did it want with the Well of Souls?'

'Not _it_—_us_,' Alyssa said firmly. 'It wants _us_ to find the Well of Souls.'

She sighed, defeated. 'But it's left us in the dark. It hasn't said _where_ this Well of Souls is. Or maybe it has, and we can't understand it.'

'That's helpful,' Tiberia muttered.

But she remembered what else it had told her and wondered if somehow it had given directions. She also remembered prior experience with the dragons also meant that they always spoke in riddles. They hardly ever told things straight, which was immensely frustrating if you were trying to find the answer to something.

'The only Well of Souls I think of,' Alyssa said absently, 'is the Soul Cairn. But that's inaccessible, even if this place is turning out more and more like it.'

Tiberia scowled. _And the only thing I can think of..._

Beyond, a chilling, eerie shriek sounded. She and Alyssa glanced towards the entrance, but the shriek sounded distant. But it still affirmed that the wraiths were on the move, still hunting the Dragonborns.

'The sky's growing darker,' she said. 'Growing stormier. The menace's power is growing.' _Damn it. This is like my fight with Alduin in Sovngarde all over again._

Alyssa was quiet for a few moments, listening to the sound of the creature. Then, she said softly, 'Was Sovngarde where you received your Fire of Mercy?'

Tiberia nodded. Memories clouded her...memories that were torn with misery as she remembered the Companions who she had left behind. It had nearly broken her. Everything about the place reminded her of Jorrvaskr, of the Companions. Especially her pack.

_Never again._ She narrowed her eyes. _I'm never going to be broken like that again._

But it made her wonder...

'Were you frightened when you went into Sovngarde? Did you believe whole-heartedly that you were going to die?'

Alyssa was silent for a moment, and Tiberia cursed at how stupid the question sounded. A Nord like her, afraid to go to Sovngarde...

But Alyssa answered softly, 'I was...a little. But it was necessary.'

Her voice shook ever so slightly. 'But I was broken there.' Damn it, it was as though she had read her mind.

'By who you left behind when you went there?' Tiberia asked.

'No.' Alyssa was staring at the floor. 'Who I left behind when I returned. Now...I'm starting to feel the same here. God-damn it, I felt it when I went to that other world and came back to Nirn...and now I'm feeling it again. Worse than ever. Each time the wound is cut open, it bleeds more.'

'You must really have cared about who you met in the other world,' Tiberia said, struggling to rein in her curiosity about what this other world was. Where she had got those strange blade contraptions. It was something that she felt Avalon would have great uses for.

Alyssa chuckled softly. 'Oh, I did care about them. How torn I am. Ripped by Alduin's claws, ripped by hopeless desires, ripped by longing...I fly with the eagles in the Currents of Time, before I came to Pass. And somewhere, they're still waiting for me to come back to them. And once again, I'm filled with a rage to find the way back home.'

Tiberia remembered who _she _had left behind.

And Gods-damn it, she realized, she was _not_ going to die here!

'Sovngarde is my home,' she said. 'It's where I have honour at last. And it's where I intend to stay.'

Alyssa smiled thinly. 'Not keen on Evergloam, either?'

'No. I'm a warrior, not a thief.'

'I'd say the same about Evergloam,' Alyssa commented quietly, but her smile grew wider. 'But I'm a daughter of Akatosh—and we will never be chained. I broke through soul-binding chains before. In my world, and in the other. And so help me, here in Pass, I will do it again.'

Tiberia thought she saw a little fire rekindle in Alyssa's green eyes when she said that. And that was good. Fire jumped from house to house, after all.

* * *

**A/N: So? Did I do OK, readers? It might have been easier if Tiberia was written in first perspective but it would have been odd in the layout of the story. So I did my best...please review, reviews are love! (or hate, depending what you want to say)**

**And as for the draconic, our heroines (for now, the next chapter will be solely about Jon, and a male member will join the party of _vomuz dovahkiinne_ soon enough) will discover this later on.**


	4. More Questions Than Answers

**A/N: Hi again, people! Updates for Torn most likely will be regular (for at least a little while) on this day. I'll try to be consistent :)**

**Shut up, me - here you folks are...**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

_Gods and Daedra..._

The last pangs of fatigue began to slip away.

_ I can't...keep this up...for much longer..._

The young dark-haired man looked up. His face was drenched with sweat, and he was heaving deeply in and out, his hands locked tightly around his sword.

He was completely exhausted, totally drained. With a soft grunt of effort, he pushed himself onto his feet. He was unsteady, but quickly he righted himself, clutching his sword determinedly. He glanced over his shoulder. The mist was growing thicker, the snow more ashy, and that meant that the sound of those horrid creatures approaching was going to become harder to detect.

He had to be on his guard. But tiredness was numbing his senses. It was a miracle he could keep his eyes open.

He wasn't sure how long he had been in this place, but he completely hated it. When he had first woken here, he had thought that it was some kind of realm of Oblivion. He knew he had died, but he hadn't expected to wake up in such an awful place.

_If this is Sovngarde,_ he thought, _then something is dreadfully wrong..._

This entire place—he couldn't describe it, but it felt like something was incorrect. He couldn't detect it, but there was something wrong. It didn't feel right...and it hadn't been because he had woken up here feeling a good deal colder than usual. It hadn't been because he had first faced strange and eerie spectral dog-like creatures that seemed intent on killing him and discovering that somehow, he wasn't able to Shout. It was something else, but something that he couldn't yet name.

He had fled through this place when he realized that more of them were coming. They had always caught up—they didn't seem to tire. Each time he had fended them off, but each time they only came back, in larger numbers, more ferocious than ever before.

_But if this is Sovngarde,_ thought Jon, as he struggled to stay on his feet, dizziness overwhelming him slightly, _where is the Hall of Valour? I have been to this place before...but I don't understand how it could have changed so much. I saw the glory that was restored to it. But this is...this is nothing like Sovngarde. Yet where else can I be?_

But Jon knew he had to rest. He couldn't go on with his head numb with exhaustion and his arms like lead, worn from swinging Kodaav at his enemies. The elder blade, forged of an ancient steel from the homeland of the Nords, was still thirsty for blood, but Jon could not heed the mighty weapon's thirst. Not now, not yet.

He knew these feelings of tiredness well. Jon sank down against the trunk of one of the eerie trees that grew here, and leaned against the bark, trying to gather his flickering senses, trying not to doze but to give his body strength again. His old wounds were troubling him. They had been since he had first come here, draining him further of energy.

Kodaav rested across his lap, and absently he stroked its ornate handle, his fingers tracing the ornate design of the roaring bear set as its pommel. Memories of home plagued him in a relentless force, and Jon closed his eyes as nostalgia overwhelmed him. More than anything, he wanted his family.

But he was here, in this strange, twisted place...this darker Sovngarde.

It made Jon afraid. He had left so many behind...so many relied on him and he had failed them. These feelings were accompanied with how he had felt, the despair and the misery and the hopelessness he had experienced when...

No. Don't go back there. Please don't go back there.

An icy wind struck him in the face, stinging his bald scars on his chin and front, and Jon's eyes snapped open with a start. He looked around him—the scent of stinging snow, he knew well, but he had learned quickly while being in this place. The icy winds here were the heralds of those creatures, those monstrosities that continually hunted him.

Swiftly he pushed himself to his feet, Kodaav clutched in his hand. But his arms were still heavy—he could not fight. Terror overcoming him at the prospect of being hunted by those wraiths, he turned and fled.

He was stumbling over his own exhaustion, though. He could hear the excited breathing growing quicker, the paws drumming on the strange peaty snow behind him. For a moment, he wondered how many there were.

The ground began to slope beneath him, rising slowly uphill. Jon, Kodaav still in hand, threw himself at it, adrenalin starting to pulse through him, urging him forward, urging him on. He climbed, the soft grey snow falling away beneath his hands and his weight, threatening to send him sliding back down. The slope was steep, but short. Jon thought he could reach the top, but when he glanced over his shoulder, through the thick mist that hovered over the ground, creatures emerged, their blue bodies glowing like the eyes of Draugr, their eyes pinpoints of azure and focused on him. They didn't even slow—they charged towards the slope and began to sprint up it with careless ease.

Jon was stunned—how come they did not tire? Tiredness was fogging his mind and he knew he was in no condition to fight. Yet despair tugged at him. How could he possibly outrun creatures who were relentless, who did not know the feeling of exhaustion?

They had almost reached him when suddenly an arrow shot out of nowhere, and one of the beasts suddenly let out a wild, high-pitched shriek before dissipating into the air. Jon didn't turn around—he kept focusing on the climb, and he didn't want to hang around should the firer of the arrow be unfriendly. There was a second swish through the air and another high-pitched squeal from a spectral wraith. One more still pursued him, and it was quite literally on his heels. He felt its stinging cold breath on his leg.

Then it had drawn back as an arrow struck its leg, making it stumble, slipping back down the slope. Jon spared a glance over his shoulder at this. The phantom had rolled to the ground. Two figures were closing in on it. He was vaguely surprised to see that one was a Khajiit, and it was she who had wielded the bow and shot down the beasts before they had reached him. The other looked human, and was already rushing towards the creature with her two-handed blade raised high above her head. She plunged it down into the beast, and grunted with satisfaction as it dematerialized around the blade.

Jon felt his hand touch the top of the slope and swiftly heaved himself over it, a small cloud of heavy, grey snow rolling away beneath his boots and pattering towards the base of the slope. He thought he heard one of the women below shout something but he didn't stay to listen. The blood was rushing in his ears. He staggered to his feet and fled, unsure where he was running.

The mist, he realized, only was growing heavier here, thicker and thicker until he could barely see. He didn't know how long he ran for. The air felt cold and full of rot—it choked his lungs and Jon's pace slowed. He didn't feel safe but he felt he could not go another yard. His legs buckling beneath him, he stumbled finally onto his knees and his arms. Dizziness was pressing at his head. Nausea was overwhelming him.

_So...tired..._

The burst of adrenalin he had had moments ago had made him more tired than ever. Jon was tempted to lie down and rest, despite the danger, when he realized that something was shifting ahead of him. The mist was moving away. Curious and cautious, Jon looked up.

He saw that he had quite literally collapsed at the foot of a small slope that was not made of grey snow, but stone and earth. Pebbles littered around its base and boulders lined its edges. A worn path led up the short earth slope. Adorning it was what Jon could only describe as some kind of enormous stone temple with the entrance of it bearing a striking resemblance to Skuldafn. Tall pillars carved with unfathomable sigils and designs rose outside its dark entrance.

Jon wasn't sure why he did it. But he pushed himself back onto his feet, and blindly began making his way towards the slope. Numbly he climbed the path, each step becoming more and more difficult to take. He actually had to fall to his hands and knees and climb four-legged up the rest of the way when he grew too dizzy to remain standing, but using the wall of the temple for support, he managed to push himself back onto his own two feet and slowly walk inside.

He hardly took note of its interior, instead walking down the corridor until he stumbled and fell. Kodaav clattered from his hands and he knew he could go no further. He closed his eyes—exhaustion pressed at his body and he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

Jon struggled to open his eyes when he became conscious again, but he felt more refreshed than before. He had more strength, and he lifted his head, almost immediately to see the hilt of Kodaav lying a few inches before his nose. Stretching out a hand, he grasped its handle, relieved at the stubbornness of the metal beneath his hand.

He pushed himself upright into a kneeling position, his armour rustling on his frame. Then he looked around at his surroundings. Vaguely he remembered stumbling in here a while ago, but he hadn't taken note of what he had seen.

Now that he was more awake, less fatigued, Jon began to notice that he was in a long corridor that seemed to slowly wind down into darkness. It was only one very long tunnel. But that wasn't what struck Jon the most about this strange place. It was the fact that every single inch of the wall was covered in...

Covered in _Draconic_.

Jon stood up quickly. For a moment, he wondered if he was mistaken, but he was not. He couldn't read it, but he could recognize the sigils easily. He had seen them numerous times before.

_How bizarre,_ he thought to himself.

He glanced back towards the entrance. It was very large, he realized, a graceful archway that didn't have any door and let the air flow through. But no mist was able to penetrate this place. He could see it gathering outside, at the foot of the earthy slope that he had scrambled up, but it wasn't climbing much higher than the first few feet of snowless earth.

Jon frowned, and headed back towards the entrance. He stood at it, feeling oddly small in comparison to the doorway's sheer size—it looked as though a dragon could walk through it and the corridor beyond comfortably—and looked out. Yes—the mist was only gathered tightly around the base, but it didn't seem as though it was able to touch the naked earth, only the soft, peaty snow that had filled Jon's vision ever since he had awoken here.

_The stones,_ he thought, stepping out onto the balcony and examining the nearest. _They look a little like standing stones._ But further examination proved that they were not—there were no star patterns set on them, no signs. Only strange runes that he couldn't translate.

Looking at the runes, Jon wondered if they were Draconic, but they were too smooth and arcing and graceful and flowing to be. Perhaps it was written in one of the Mer languages—he had heard about how complicated their writing was.

He turned around, looking at the outside of the temple. Jon was amazed. It bore a faint likeness to the old monastery on the Throat of the World but it rose with leaping stone arches like the exterior of Bleak Falls Barrow. Covering every single inch of the grey stone, though, were sigils—he recognized some of them to be written in Draconic, but others in other languages. He was fairly certain that there was Daedric carved into the rock as well. He could recognize the telltale sigil, the emblem of the Oblivion Gate, amidst a mass of other similar-looking sigils.

A cold breeze tugged at his hair and bare skin and Jon glanced around nervously. He felt as though the mist was moving beneath him, and creatures were watching him. Unnerved, he gripped the handle of Kodaav tighter, for reassurance, and he tried to force away these feelings of fear. He was Jon. He was _not afraid _of whatever lurked beneath him. He had slain the World-Eater. He was not afraid.

But his nerves were unsettled, and Jon cautiously retreated back into the mouth of the temple. The moment that he stepped inside, he felt as though the cold beyond had lessened a little. Here, inside this unusual temple, the icy breeze couldn't touch him. The feeling that he was being watched also seemed to lessen.

Jon glanced back down the length of the tunnel. He hadn't even realized how dark it grew, how endless it was. Wondering if there was some kind of torch nearby, he moved forward, feeling with his hands rather than using his eyes as he moved further away from the dull grey light that flooded in from the doorway.

He used his hands to feel along the wall, and at the same time his boot kicked against something very solid and rising suddenly from the floor, his fingertips made contact with cold, stiff chain. Jon stumbled to a halt, and reached out with his hand. He was staring at total darkness with the light behind him, and his fingertips were sensitive, alert to every slight touch that they received. He felt out the chain again, and slowly closed his hand around it, feeling it and following it upward.

His knuckles grazed the top and felt the roughness of more coiled chain around a strong iron bar. With the flat of his hand, he felt its surface. Seized by a sudden suspicion, Jon moved his hand completely down, following the chain until he came to what he was looking for—a large, steel circular handhold.

_A chain lever,_ he thought. Praying it wasn't a booby trap, he gripped the lever and pulled it down.

There was an affirming creak and a rattle. Then, suddenly, searing orange light and heat lit up Jon's vision. Stifling a cry of alarm and pain, he stumbled backwards, one hand going up to shield his face and eyes from the harsh glare and sudden warmth.

But then he began to make out the sounds of somewhat-familiar rushes. Jon lowered his hand a little, to see that the solid thing he had bumped into before had turned out to be a mounted brazier that was now brimming with bright golden flames. And all the way down the corridor, the darkness was vanishing as more braziers were being lit up in a chain reaction, lighting with a soft _fwwsh_ one at a time.

_At least my light problem is solved now,_ Jon thought.

He wondered if there was any wood nearby he could use for a torch, but there didn't seem to be any. But the corridor was well-lit enough, though. He could see all the way down it—and see exactly what had been carved on the walls.

Jon was further amazed, and very slowly, he began to walk down its length.

There was an endless tide of carvings, scrawled in all kinds of languages save for Tamrielic. The dominating one was the dragon's tongue—it was the largest out of all the others, and seemed to be boldly proclaiming something. Beneath the languages, Jon's eyes found carvings, but not of words in other tongues...

_Images_. They were images.

Drawn to the nearest, he knelt down. In the dull glare of the orange flames the chasms in the carvings were outlined more clearly, making them wavy and black, but they were carved with astounding reality. Jon realized that the one he was staring at could only be Helgen. Buildings were aflame, and figures were fleeing. A child was kneeling next to his wounded father on the open road. A tower's head was smashed and crumbled in. Soldiers ran aimlessly on the roads, readying arrows, firing spells, at a huge dragon who was circling high above, jaws parted in a silent but haunting roar as fiery rocks fell around it in a dizzying shower.

It was carved with shocking reality. Jon could almost smell the smoke and hear the screams...they resonated in his mind. He thought he saw the flames flicker a little in the stone wall, thought he saw Alduin's eyes glow in his head...

Jon stepped away from it, unable to look at it a moment longer.

He turned to examine the carving that faced directly across the Helgen scene...only to see that it was the same. Well...nearly the same. Jon stared—it was carved, once again, with astonishing clarity, but this time there were differences. It showed the same area of Helgen, but the dragon was swooping down to grasp an Imperial soldier from the top of the largest tower in the town. A horse was running wildly from the fray, eyes rolling in terror from the fire and the smoke and the stench of death. And a figure was jumping from the top of the crumbled-in tower in the southwest corner of the town towards the partially-destroyed inn on the other side.

Jon frowned, kneeling down and looking at the tiny figure closer. He remembered that he had done that seemingly impossible feat. For a moment, he wondered if it was him. But no—it showed instead what appeared to be a young woman...a Nord, maybe? Yes, definitely a Nord, like him...but not quite. The cheekbones were too high, the chin just slightly too pointed. The hair that flowed behind her was very dark brown, nearly black, but the edges twisted into long Nordic braids. There was a look of unmistakable terror on her face.

_How am I seeing all this?_ Jon stared, surprised at himself. He examined the carving again. The woman's head was no larger than his thumb but the carving had been done with incredible precision. It was set stone, but he could almost see her leaping from one balcony to the next.

Sudden suspicion gripped him. Jon stepped back from the carving and returned to the one he previously had looked at. There—he could see a figure standing in the broken tower. He must have missed it earlier. The figure was preparing to make the jump to the next inn, but Jon saw it wasn't the same Nordic woman. It was an Argonian with long straight horns from the back of his head, his hands still tied together, looking scared but determined. His face, Jon saw, didn't look quite as Argonian-ish as most others he had seen. Looking at him, Jon thought he looked more dragonish than reptilian.

_Who are they?_ Jon wondered. _They're at Helgen...and above them is Alduin...but I've never seen them in my life! I never saw them at Helgen—and they never came on the carts._

He straightened, and realized that he had missed several of these picture carvings behind him, while more lay ahead of him. He turned and headed back to the ones he had missed before. Again, he saw the same scene, of burning Helgen, of Alduin destroying and wrecking the place, the figures in slightly different positions than the previous and next. He had missed three carvings, Jon saw. In each of those carvings of Helgen, there was a different person leaping from the tower to the inn. There was a young Nord woman with long flowing brown hair and total disbelief written across all her features, as though she wasn't entirely sure _what_ she was doing. There was a slender Khajiit woman leaping with nearly careless ease from the tower down to the inn. Her long tail streamed out behind her, but her eyes seemed to shimmer like flame in the firelight nearby, and sparkle with life in a lifeless stone carving. An unusually short, dark-haired Dunmer was preparing to make the leap. Her face, Jon noticed, wasn't quite as angled as he remembered most Elven faces to be. It was more rounded, the cheekbones high but less sharp, the hair twisted back into a widow's peak but the eyes less almond-shaped.

_Who are they?_ Jon thought, as he slowly rose and headed back the way he had come, to move down the rest of the tunnel. _They all are in the same place as I was...when I was captured by the Imperials and Alduin was sacking Helgen..._

He came to the next set of Helgen carvings. One of them, he saw was a young Nord woman. She had short, shoulder-length hair that might have been light brown. Her face was beautiful and slightly slanted, the cheekbones high, the chin rounded, the eyes bright even set in stone. But what Jon noticed about her was the fact that in the carving Alduin was diving towards her as she leapt with his huge talons extended—and that something seemed to swing at her throat as she took the leap over the fiery abyss beneath her.

_Is that a dragon pendant?_

Then he turned around to examine the carving directly opposite. He wondered if it was still Helgen—and Jon saw that yes, it was. But he hurried towards it, suddenly breathless with disbelief himself.

In this carving, he saw himself, preparing to take the plunge. He saw his eyes were full of fear but a ferocious determination. Gathered behind him, Jon could see Ulfric and Ralof and a few other rebels of their band—fierce, immobile carvings, readying themselves for the leap. Beyond, Alduin circled. The Helgen here, he saw, seemed much fuller than the other carvings of burning Helgen. More lined the streets—fallen or upright, dead or living.

For a moment, Jon searched the carving, searching for any sign of a tail or a raggedly-dressed woman. He half expected to find the figures from the other carvings here, but was surprised when he couldn't see them anywhere, as though they had never existed within Helgen.

_Every carving is so realistic,_ he thought. _Still life..._

He stepped back. _So who were the others, then? Why were they in Helgen...in my place, it seems?_

The tunnel, he felt beneath his feet, was starting to slope, but the braziers illuminated the way. It seemed to go at a gentle slant towards underground, and by the cool air that calmly rushed up from beneath it, Jon guessed it went deeply. But he saw the walls were becoming ridged—divided into separate parts, like bars of a cage, and between each ridge were carvings.

He was drawn to them. He couldn't help it. And he began to notice patterns, the further he progressed down the corridor. The long-haired young Nord girl, the Argonian, the Nord with short dark braided hair, the Khajiit, the Nord woman with the dragon pendant, which she always seemed to wear, the Dunmer with the fiery eyes, and himself. Beneath each carving were sketched runes. For all of them, there was Draconic, but for the Dunmer's, Jon saw that the complex language of the Dark Elves and what he presumed was the nearly-unfathomable tongue of the Daedra were written in unison alongside the dragon's tongue.

He saw the carvings always varied. He saw even without truly understanding who the others were that they were leading different paths, but in the same land. He could recognize many of the cities that appeared around them or the background, and caught in his astonishment and bemusement, he observed random carvings. He saw Jorrvaskr appear behind the Dunmer and the Nord girl, and the dark-haired braided woman standing in something that appeared to bear reminiscence to the Ratways. No...that large room...what was it called? The Ragged Flagon...he watched the Khajiit standing before an ancient word wall, one that Jon recognized in a flash as the one in Bleak Falls Barrow. She was staring at one of the runes which were brighter than all the others. The Argonian was doing the same. The Nord woman with the dragon pendant was also in the Ratways like that dark-haired braided one...and then Jon saw himself, standing before the word wall in Bleak Falls Barrow just like the Khajiit and Argonian, with Ulfric beside him. Jon could remember that memory...he had translated the word wall for him, and he had touched it, and all the Draugr in the chamber had awoken...

His eyes flickered to the next carvings. More and more. They were endless. He progressed down the tunnel. At varying points, he watched the dragons sneak into what Jon could only presume were their lives. The tunnel seemed to span forever...the air grew cooler and pricked at Jon's skin, and the fires, he noted, seem to grow duller. He wondered what would happen if they all went out. Could he feel his way back to the bright entrance again?

He came to the end of the corridor. He stepped through the arching doorway, to find himself in a huge room, one that completely took his breath away. Jon stared. The walls loomed high as the interior of Dragonsreach—and they were _full_ of carvings. Along the walls, he saw Alduin in every single one. And in every single one, he saw one of the seven warriors he had been following facing him. Jon's eyes sought out his own and he saw his legendary fight with the World-Eater—no longer a boy, but a man, stronger, wiser, more determined. At his side, Paarthurnax, pure white, roaring defiance to his brother as he collided in battle with him one last time.

His eyes drifted to the ceiling. He had to tilt back his head completely to see it. There was Alduin—his great black wings were unfurled, spreading nearly from ceiling to ceiling. And before him, wings spread in flight and eyes gleaming with rage, were seven dragons. Seven dragons, facing the World-Eater, each releasing the Thu'um as one unified Voice. The carving upon the ceiling was more alive than any other Jon had seen. Metalwork and precious stones had been involved with this particular carving. Alduin was of black ebony, and his eyes bore two gleaming rubies. The dragons surrounding him were of different colours, with different eyes. On the edges was a huge silver dragon, with a magnificent tail-blade and sparkling eyes of moonstone blue. A smaller but undeniably fierce dragon of copper red scales and gleaming black spines and gold-patterned wings flew beside the darker one, its eyes a pair of sparkling topaz. Beside the copper dragon flew one made of dark ebony and shimmering moonstone with a pair of gleaming sapphires for eyes—Jon sensed it was him, knowing that it was not just his pale skin and dark hair, but the darkness of Alduin and the good of Paarthurnax. Beside him flew a truly mighty creature—a deep, dark bluish-grey like steel and azure mixed together, with wings black as night, a pair of dark red rubies, red as Alduin's, as its eyes. Beside it was, to Jon's mild confusion, a two-sided dragon. One half of it was made of shining gold, bright as the sun, and on that side, a glinting emerald was its glittering eye, but on the other half it was black as Alduin's scales, with a set ruby in its head. Beside the two-sided dragon flew a brown dragon with huge silver wings and an incredibly long and graceful tail, eyes sparkling sapphire. Lastly flew a mighty white, blue and brown dragon, wings coloured burnt umber, whose eyes were dark and sparkled like polished chips of amethyst.

All of them were facing the huge black dragon that rose before them.

For a moment, Jon was confused...he felt he did not understand. Seven dragons...but he had faced Alduin alone...if this was to commemorate a Dragonborn's defeat of Alduin...

But he found himself remembering what he had seen. The six others...they, too, had followed his path...not in exactly the same way, but they had all turned out to be Dragonborn. He had all seen them fighting, drawing blade, arrow and claw to the World-Eater.

_And now here they all are,_ Jon thought. _In this chamber...it seems to be devoted to the defeat of Alduin._ _Seven dragons...the seven of us...but we did not face him as one..._

_Who are the others? Where did they come from?_

And it was then that he was aware of a soft, ominous voice filling every corner of the stone room. Jon hesitated—he felt an icy breeze prickle at his skin. He realized that beyond this chamber lay one more. But unlike this room, which was full of firelight from the several enormous braziers that lay in each corner of the stone room of carvings, the corridor that led to the next chamber was pitch black.

He blanched and gagged at the stench that flowed from within the corridor, riding the cool and icy wind out of it. It was the scent of decay and rot and ice—the smell of death. Swiftly he drew Kodaav, and the ancient blade hummed in the air.

Jon felt a terrible reluctance to enter the dark corridor. He felt fear tugging at the edges of his resolve, but he pushed them away. Kodaav was reassuringly heavy in his hand. Now he faced the darkness that lay beyond.

But he was not prepared for what it contained.

A mutilated, strangled and guttural voice hissed from the shadows.

_Are you here to free us at last, Dovahkiin?_

* * *

**A/N: And there we have it, folks! Who are those mysterious voices in that dark room? What do all the carvings mean? Poor Jon is befuzzled but he'll learn soon enough *sinister smile*. Reviews are love - you know what to do ;D Shout is Out.**


	5. Two (more) Heads Are Better Than One

**A/N: Hello, loyal readers! Half-forgot about updating today (le sigh) I was drawing all morning. Nonetheless! Here it is...**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

'Hey...are you all right?'

The Argonian frowned with concern as he knelt down beside the young girl. She looked young, at least—a young Nord with long flowing brown hair. She was dressed in unusual armour, nightblack, smooth as ice and seemed to have been molded around her slender frame. On her wrist she wore a dark brown bracer over her black glove.

She let out a soft groan as her eyes flickered open. The Argonian saw that they were a bright, piercing blue.

Then her eyes abruptly flew wide open and she gasped as though she had been struck by a lightning bolt.

'Hey, easy, easy,' the Argonian soothed as she tried to rise and fell back with a pained wince. 'You took quite a blow to the head. It's all right. The men are gone now. They're looking for someone but that someone, fortunately, isn't you.'

The girl glanced at the Argonian as though finally noticing he was there.

'What...what are you doing in...?' she asked quietly.

The Argonian frowned. 'Doing in what? This place? I'm not too sure of that myself.'

The girl slowly sat up now. The Argonian settled beside her and supported her back with his arm until she regained enough strength to sit up by herself. She rubbed her head, and slowly looked around.

'This isn't...' she whispered in slight confusion.

Then she shook her head. 'Sorry. Old...old memories. I thought you were someone else.'

The Argonian shrugged. 'It matters not,' he said kindly. 'I thought you'd be a little disorientated. You did try to fight back.'

'Yes, I did.' Her eyes were growing clearer and she massaged her temple absently. 'But they were my enemies.'

The Argonian remembered the odd scene he had come into. There he was, still trying to find a way out of the blasted fog, and marveling over the fact that he couldn't seem to Shout or indeed contact Lokhunnonvul at all, and just beyond there was a girl in black armour with a bird sigil studded on its front struggling against two large...well, the Argonian presumed they were knights. They wore closed-in helmets and long cuirasses emblazoned with a red cross.

He remembered that they had been hurting her, asking her something wildly in a language he wasn't certain he could understand. It hadn't been Draconic and he suspected it wasn't Elvish and it certainly wasn't his own tongue, Jel. He had asked her what they were doing and they immediately had attacked him. Armed with his crossbow, though, he was able to take them down, but not before one of them had clocked the poor girl over the head with his gauntleted fist, knocking her lights out completely.

But before he had died—the knights had faded and dissipated into the air just like those ghost dogs did when they died—the knight had muttered in shaky Tamrielic that she was not to be trusted, that she was one of _them_. The Argonian wasn't certain what _them_ was meant to mean. Maybe she would have some idea, now that she had come around again.

The Argonian asked, 'Who were they?'

She looked carefully at him for a moment, before she admitted, 'I think it might take a long time to explain...'

'All right. We'll see if we can find a cavern, or something, and then you can tell me all about it.' The Argonian guessed she was right—it was not safe out here. He glanced back at her and said, 'Can you walk?'

She nodded, pushing herself to her feet. For her merit, the Argonian could see she was pretty good at getting up after being knocked down. Her long brown hair flowed like a small cloak over her shoulders. The Argonian noticed that a sword was strapped to her side, as well as a satchel slung over her cloaked back. She was only a little shorter than him, and cautiously she looked around at her surroundings.

'This does not look like Sovngarde,' she murmured.

'It can't be,' argued the Argonian. 'The sky is bare.'

The girl shot him a startled glance. 'You've been in Sovngarde?'

The Argonian furrowed his brow a little. 'Yes,' he answered. 'When I was facing down the World-Eater.'

The girl was staring at him, looking only more perplexed.

'I didn't see you there,' she said at last. 'And only a Dragonborn can face a World-Eater...'

The Argonian felt confused himself. 'Of course. It's their destiny.' He looked at her in a whole new light. 'Are you saying that you faced down Alduin _as well?_'

The girl hesitated, and then slowly nodded.

'And...and you faced him, too.'

The Argonian nodded. 'It was part of the Longest Plan.'

She didn't ask what he meant by that, even though the Argonian could see her confusion showing through. It sparkled in her eyes. 'But then...that means you're Dragonborn, too,' she said quietly, glancing unsurely back at him. 'You're Dragonborn as well...'

'Not so much "Dragonborn" as "dragon in skin of mortal",' the Argonian said thoughtfully. 'But I've lost all my powers since coming here. I can't speak in Draconic, I can't contact my friend and I can't Shout.' Looking at her carefully, he said, 'Has that happened to you, too? You can't Shout?'

The girl nodded, with a slight frown. 'I don't understand why I can't. I could Shout in Sovngarde...but then again...' She looked around. 'This isn't Sovngarde. Not at all. I only remember closing my eyes. Alduin had struck me a fatal blow and I died on the Throat of the World.'

She glanced at her wrist, and paused in surprise at what she saw. The Argonian watched as she suddenly examined it, her face quite pale, and she whispered, 'How...how did I get _this?_'

'What is it?' the Argonian asked.

She glanced at him, and then back at the bracer. She stretched her arm out, and performed a slight wrist maneuver, so subtle that if the Argonian hadn't been watching, he was certain he would have missed it.

But he was very taken aback when he suddenly saw a blade leap abruptly from beneath her wrist, skating beneath her outstretched fingers, the tip gleaming in the air a few good inches beyond her hand.

'I can't believe I haven't noticed I've been wearing this all along,' the girl muttered to herself, as she flicked her wrist a second time, and the blade shot away into hiding. The Argonian watched, perplexed.

'What _is_ it?'

'It's a weapon that...well, that's quite symbolic, particularly to a man I knew briefly in Skyrim,' the girl said softly. 'But...I don't remember getting it. I wonder how it came to me? I certainly wasn't wearing it when I was fighting Alduin.'

She glanced back at the Argonian and then blushed furiously. 'I'm sorry—I don't even know your name.'

'My name is Shouts-at-Sun,' the Argonian introduced himself. 'And you are...?'

'Quill.'

Shouts-at-Sun paused. 'Just Quill?'

'Yes. It's the only name I had as a young girl growing up.' Quill looked at him in mild confusion herself. 'But Shouts-at-Sun is kind of coincidental to your status...providing that you really are Dragonborn.'

'Like you, it's the only name I had,' Shouts-at-Sun answered.

He looked around. 'How long have you been in this place?'

'I'm...not sure,' Quill answered truthfully. 'What I've noticed so far, though, is that there doesn't seem to be any movement of time here. No sun. No moon. No stars. But the sky is growing slowly and gradually darker and more restless, and the mist is growing colder, and those...those wraith dog things, whatever they are, they're growing stronger, too.'

'More have been attacking me,' Shouts-at-Sun conceded.

He was noticing that Quill was staring at his armour. 'What is it?'

'Sorry. It's just...dragonplate. _Wow._' Sheepishly she smiled. 'I...never could move in heavy armour. It was always light armour for me. Did you forge it?'

Shouts-at-Sun shook his head. 'A friend gave it to me from his home.'

'He must have been a pretty wealthy friend. How did he get his hands on dragonbone?'

'...he had a knack for finding it,' Shouts-at-Sun said carefully.

He suddenly felt a prickling on the back of his neck, and he whipped around, instinctively raising his crossbow. Quill rested a hand on the hilt of her sword, her blue eyes darting about her nervously.

Out from the mist, Shouts-at-Sun and Quill watched five figures step from it.

Behind him, Shouts-at-Sun felt Quill tense in sudden fear.

'Oh, no...'

'We mean the pair of you no harm,' said one of the strange knight-clad figures upon approach. He spoke slowly and carefully, as though he was not used to speaking in Tamrielic. 'Lower your weapons. We only want to ask questions.'

Shouts-at-Sun frowned. He was not fooled. 'And what "questions" would these be?' he inquired.

'Where the other one like _her_ is.' The knight gestured to Quill.

Shouts-at-Sun was perplexed. 'What do you mean?'

But Quill had drawn her sword. 'Don't come near me.'

Shouts-at-Sun decided to reangle his question. Glancing at her, he asked, 'What do they mean? What do they want with you?'

'Something that they mustn't have.' Quill's voice was quiet but determined. 'I thought it was solved four years ago. Apparently not.'

'We're looking for someone,' stated the knight. 'And we believe that the girl has answers to our questions. She bears their weapons, after all, just like our target.'

Shouts-at-Sun was still confused, but with great effort he hid it and stated, 'Who are you looking for? What does she look like?'

'She has brown hair and green eyes, and most likely will possess two weapons similar to the one that the girl is wearing on her left arm—a bracer with a hidden blade,' stated the knight. 'And if I were you...' He paused, trying to remember something, and then went on, '..._Ar-go-nee-anne_, I would not trust her. Her kind is always deceptive and manipulative.'

'Actually, "her kind" are Dragonborns,' Shouts-at-Sun stated. 'And I am one also.'_ However impossible it seems._ 'So I would like to know what is going on here.'

'Shouts-at-Sun,' he heard Quill mutter behind him, 'Don't trust them. Don't listen to them.'

'She is not what she appears to be,' said the knight. His voice sounded hollow beneath his steel helmet, emblazoned with a red cross. 'She is an Assassin, and has been in league with one, one of our very enemies. So has the woman we've been looking for, but more so, and more importantly, she is one of them.'

'Look,' Quill said, her tone impatient, 'I don't know who you're talking about. By the sounds of her, I've never met this woman in my life. Even if I did agree to answer your questions, I wouldn't be able to.'

'There, see?' Shouts-at-Sun said. 'We don't know anything. Now we can part ways and everything can end peacefully.'

The knights were not convinced, apparently. Four of them drew their swords with a flourish.

'You, I'm afraid, aren't going anywhere,' said the knight.

Shouts-at-Sun was incredulous. 'You just said that you weren't going to hurt us.'

'We lied. Your essences are still required to fuel the _Vostrunmahsille_.' His pronunciation was completely atrocious, but both Shouts-at-Sun and Quill recognized the word to be spoken in Draconic. Unfortunately, they didn't know what it meant, and Shouts-at-Sun suddenly didn't want to.

'It doesn't have to end this way,' Shouts-at-Sun said warningly.

'Unfortunately, for you two, it does. You have nothing of use to us in knowledge, but you still need to be harvested.'

' "Harvested"?' repeated Quill indignantly. 'We're not plants!'

'No point speaking to them further,' Shouts-at-Sun warned her. 'Just focus on defending yourself.'

The strange knights moved forward with villainous intent, but Shouts-at-Sun merely gave himself a resigned sigh.

_Here we go again._

* * *

'Do you hear that?'

Alyssa nodded. 'Unmistakable.' The chilling shrieks were becoming as familiar to her ears as the sound of dragon wings.

Beyond, she could also hear something else. Cries of battle.

'More Dragonborns,' muttered Morwyn. 'At this rate, we'll start calling ourselves "The League of Extraordinary Dragonborns".'

Alyssa led the way through the heavy fog—it was growing heavier and colder and was starting to penetrate through her Cloak. 'We have to help them.'

'Now hold on a second! Tell me how you're going to kill them?'

Alyssa paused, frowning. 'Good point...'

Morwyn was mulling something over—Alyssa had learned to recognize that thoughtful gleam in her crimson eyes. Then, she gave a small sigh, marched forward, and pressed the hilt of the Ebony Sword of the Blaze into her hands.

'And you had better not scratch it!' she threatened.

Alyssa felt the weight of the ebony in her hands, but it wasn't too much heavier than Dragonsbane. _At least_, she told herself, with a small grin, _I have permission this time_. 'So what are you going to use?' she asked, and suddenly remembered the fireball that had first heralded the Dunmer.

Clearly, Morwyn was remembering the same. 'I'm not completely defenseless, you know!' she stated, as she conjured two swords from the plane of Oblivion. Alyssa was amazed she could still reach it from here...maybe it had something to do with her Dunmer status, or something.

'You can wield a sword, right?' Morwyn inquired.

Alyssa nodded, twirling the Ebony Sword of the Blaze between her fingers. 'I used the Nightingale Blade to finish Alduin,' she said. 'I think I know how to—'

She dropped it on her foot.

Morwyn stifled a snicker, and Alyssa told her to shut up.

They ran through the mist, the Ebony Sword of the Blaze now firmly set in Alyssa's hands, the two bound swords glowing blue in Morwyn's. Bursting through the fog, Alyssa saw that the wraiths were already locked in combat against two women—and surprise, for a moment, held Alyssa still, particularly as she surveyed what the Khajiit wore, and what she used.

She was wearing black Guildmaster's armour, and strapped across her back was a quiver of black arrows. But in her hands was, unmistakably, the Nightingale Bow.

She was using it expertly, Alyssa granted. A wraith leapt towards her, and the Khajiit squarely fired the arrow, straight through its eye. With a protesting howl that rapidly diminished with its body, it vanished.

The Khajiit's companion was also an agile fighter—like Morwyn, she moved in heavy armour, but Alyssa swore that what she wore was Ebony Mail, the artifact of Boethiah, and in her hands was the Ebony Blade, the jewel of Mephala. With one smooth motion, the woman avoided an attack from a wraith and slipped the Blade through its ribs. It vanished with a wailing shriek a Hagraven would be proud of.

But there were still many wraiths surrounding them, and they were outnumbered three to one. It was a huge pack that was attacking them, it seemed, and for a moment, the Khajiit's ears flattened in dismay.

The next moment, of course, Morwyn had thrown herself into the whole thick of things. Savagely she kicked aside one of the wraiths that had been about to leap at the dark-haired woman in the Ebony Mail and sliced its head clean off with her dual blades. And Alyssa, not wishing to be left behind, raced to aid the Khajiit, who was still reloading her bow as two wraiths pounded towards her.

'Piss off!' Alyssa snapped, driving the Ebony Sword of the Blaze straight through the nearest's throat—and watching in satisfaction as it disintegrated and vanished around the sword's edges.

The other charging wraith hesitated, obviously torn between the Khajiit and now Alyssa, but in its brief hesitation, the Khajiit got her bow up and swiftly shot the creature through its spectral head.

When it faded, the Khajiit spared Alyssa a glance.

'I thank you,' she said. 'For a moment I thought I was done for.'

'Don't thank me just yet,' Alyssa warned.

There were still four wraiths to deal with, but now there were four Dragonborns to finish them. Alyssa ran towards the nearest. The wraith snapped bright blue eyes towards her and lunged—Alyssa ducked. The weight of the blade threw her off balance for a moment, but she recovered quickly, and just in time. The creatures were growing faster, Alyssa noted in her mind, as the wraith leapt once more. But then an ethereal blade flashed across Alyssa's vision and suddenly there wasn't a wraith any more.

'Hey! That was mine!' Alyssa protested.

'Finders, keepers!' Morwyn threw her a grin.

There was another chilling shriek nearby. Alyssa saw that the dark-haired woman had plunged her two-handed greatsword through the body of a felled wraith, and she let out a hiss of satisfaction as it vanished beneath her. But as she straightened, puffing a little, Alyssa saw a bright blue body move behind her.

'Look out!' she tried to shout, but it was already in the air by the time the words had formed in her mind. The woman turned around, perplexed, and then suddenly she had been bowled over, and let out a gasp of involuntary surprise as its jaws closed on her arm.

'Get it off her!' roared Morwyn, already racing towards the wraith, but suddenly a black arrow sped through the air and plunged into the creature's back. It let out a howl and staggered off its victim, only to fall victim to Morwyn's slashing blades. But it was stronger—imbued with the knowledge it had stolen from the woman, it began to defend itself.

Alyssa hurried to and knelt beside the woman, who was shakily trying to get to her feet. Her face was very grey.

The creature howled yet again. The Khajiit had joined in taking down the beast with Morwyn, who abruptly fell. Its stolen strength could not exceed the anger and skill of two furious Dragonborns. Alyssa saw its blue outline fall away and the grey core remain, and then return to its original bearer.

The woman drank it in greedily. Her shivering lessened a little, but her face was still very pale.

'Kajsa!' the Khajiit cried, hurrying towards her companion.

The woman—Kajsa, the Khajiit had called her—shook her head slightly. 'I'm fine, I'm fine...I just need to catch my breath.'

'You don't have time to catch your breath,' Morwyn said. 'They'll only return—if the packs are growing this large in number, imagine how large the wraith pack will be now.'

'Can you walk?' Alyssa asked her.

Kajsa looked at her with a wary expression in her eyes, as though she wasn't too sure if she wanted their concern. Then, she started to push herself to her feet. But she staggered, disorientated. The Khajiit, her bright eyes concerned, helped her stand, and when Kajsa threatened to fall again, let her lean against her.

'We thank you,' the Khajiit said to Morwyn and Alyssa.

'Save it,' advised Morwyn. 'We're not out of danger yet.'

'We're never out of danger here,' Kajsa muttered darkly.

'There's one place where they can't reach us,' Alyssa informed her. 'It's how Morwyn and I have been surviving in Pass.'

Both of them looked blank. 'Pass?' echoed the Khajiit.

'It isn't much like Pass at the moment, more like the Soul Cairn, but it's the borderland between life and death, Oblivion and Mundus...you get the idea.' Alyssa glanced over her shoulder. The mist was looking more threatening. She suspected the wraiths were already reforming somewhere and on their way. 'In the meantime we need to get you out of here.'

'You mentioned a safe place,' Kajsa said faintly.

'Our little sanctuary,' said Morwyn sarcastically. 'Wonderful. We're going to have even more wraiths at our doorstep.'

'Shut up and just lead the way, Morwyn.'

Morwyn rolled her eyes.

They began to move. 'What are your names?' Alyssa asked them.

'My name is J'shana,' the Khajiit said. 'Her name is Kajsa Red-Blade.'

'J'shana,' Alyssa mused to herself. 'Just like the Sister God.'

J'shana's ears flicked forward in surprise. 'You know the legend? It is known only throughout the Tygra tribe...'

'...and the Laryssin family. My name's Alyssa Laryssin.'

Kajsa glanced at her. 'You don't look like an Imperial,' she said.

'I don't look like a dragon, either. But in life, dragon, Imperial, Nord and wolf blood flowed in my veins, it's quite complicated.'

'Wait...' Kajsa stared at her, not quite believing it. 'You're Dragonborn, too?'

'And don't get her started on her other titles!' Morwyn called from the front.

J'shana frowned a little. 'This is growing quite perplexing. There are so many of us...here, in one place...'

'And I daresay that you've both faced Alduin, too,' Alyssa surmised.

'You've killed Alduin?' Kajsa frowned. 'This makes no sense.'

'I saw no other in Sovngarde when I faced the World-Eater,' said J'shana.

'Look, it's a long story—one, I think, that can wait until we get back to the cave.'

'Hear, hear,' Morwyn said.

* * *

The conversation ceased as the wraiths began to move in the mist again. Several times they attacked quite unexpectedly, but Morwyn never seemed too surprised by their rather unexpected approaches. Alyssa stayed close to Kajsa when the wraiths drew near the weakened Dragonborn. She suspected that one more bite like the one she had received in her last battle would drain her completely.

Several times Kajsa looked as though she wanted to join the fight. Each time, J'shana talked her out of it.

'You can't even stand, let alone hold your blade.'

'I don't need others fighting my battles for me.'

'It's not just your battles, Kajsa. They're all of ours as well.'

Alyssa sympathized. She knew the feeling.

She was getting more and more respect for young J'shana. It was clear that she was the youngest Dragonborn of the party, but she seemed to possess as much wisdom as the oldest. Alyssa reckoned that J'shana probably had the most common sense—and, Gods-damn it, the most patience—something that Alyssa privately felt that Morwyn lacked.

But Morwyn was mad—that was the truth. Mad rarely associated itself with such a petty thing as "common sense".

Alyssa's immediate concern was not the wraiths, but Kajsa. She looked as though the journey itself was starting to drain her. Her face was growing greyer and her eyes losing a little of their emotion and becoming glazed. She slumped more and more against J'shana.

'Is it much farther?' Kajsa murmured. 'I think I'm going to be sick.'

'No, not far,' answered Alyssa. 'And please try and hold it in.'

'If it does come, you needn't worry. I'm going to turn and do it to my left.'

'And should you try that, you won't need to worry about the wraiths killing you—I'll do it myself,' said J'shana with sinister calm.

It was remarkable the pair had made it this far.

But Alyssa could start to pick up the sounds of drumming spectral paws as they began to climb down the slope leading towards the tunnel. They could all see it now—Kajsa with a skeptical expression on her face, J'shana, with a hopeful—but Alyssa suddenly doubted that they'd make it in time.

'They're coming.' J'shana's ears were flattened.

'Tell us something we don't know,' muttered Kajsa.

They reached the base of the slope, but Alyssa was sure that they were almost on top of them now. Kajsa was in no fighting condition and J'shana was obviously determined to get them to safety.

'Head to the tunnel,' Alyssa told them. 'Morwyn and I will hold them off until you get inside.'

'Since when have you been leader?' Morwyn demanded.

'Since you stole my kill.'

'You can just kill it again. Those things don't die.' Morwyn paused. 'At least, I don't _think_ they do...'

'Let's settle this later.' Alyssa saw the first wraith appear at the top of the rise and let out a chilling, high-pitched shriek.

'Oh, goody.' There was a familiar warping noise as twin conjured swords materialized in Morwyn's hands. 'Took you long enough!'

Alyssa shook her head. 'How did you ever become Dragonborn, Morwyn?'

'I've asked myself the same question!'

The wraiths began to stream down the slope towards them, and Alyssa readied the Ebony Sword of the Blaze. She was quickly growing accustomed to it now. The beasts streamed towards them—Alyssa estimated ten to fifteen. Shit. That was freaking huge. All with an equal potential to kill both her and Morwyn.

The first leapt, and Alyssa avoided it, rolling across the ground with the Cloak sweeping at her heels. Landing with a thud on the ground, Alyssa turned to kill it, but suddenly had to duck as another leapt at her.

They were fanning out, surrounding them and closing in. Alyssa dodged one of their maws and brought the Ebony Sword swishing through the nearest. With a howl, it disintegrated. Jaws closed just behind her and she kicked out, connecting with a spectral muzzle. Like a whipped pup, it scrambled backwards, whimpering. But there were more. Alyssa at last managed to bring down a second but that nearly cost her a little more of her essence when huge blue jaws clamped down dangerously close to her throat.

She suddenly heard Morwyn roar, 'Come back here!'

Alyssa spared a glance. Two of the wraiths had broken away from the small group Morwyn was facing and were racing towards the tunnel. J'shana and Kajsa were nearly at the entrance but at the speed the wraiths were racing...

'Handle my dogs for a moment, would you?' Morwyn shot at Alyssa. One of the conjured swords vanished from her grasp, to be replaced with a whitish cloud. It smelled like fresh snow. A wraith sprang towards her and Alyssa leapt to Morwyn's defense, impaling the wraith through the throat mid-leap. It looked baffled for a moment, before it vanished. She kicked an approaching wraith away and sliced its head open, but Alyssa was tiring.

'Hurry up!' she snapped at Morwyn.

She heard the sound of rapidly-forming ice behind her, and spared a glance. Morwyn was readying an ice spike, now in both hands. Then, she released—like missiles they shot through the air with deadly precision, and struck both the wraiths through the haunches. They shrieked in protest as their legs crumpled beneath them, their terrifying charge halted.

Numbing, ice-cold pain jerked Alyssa back to reality. 'Shit!' she cursed, upon finding that a pair of jaws was wrapped around her leg, its owner snarling and hurling its weight backwards, upending her. She swished the Ebony Sword around and cleaved its eyes, watching as it dissipated and released her stolen energy, feeling a little of her strength return, but she was by now lying on the ground, feeling a bit stunned and definitely more drained than before. She had been growing used to that buggering, lingering cold and now she felt colder than ever.

A wraith loomed above her head and Alyssa socked it across the muzzle with a clenched fist. It was stunned but another took its place. Then it drew back with a hiss and a shriek as a conjured sword sliced its nose open. Morwyn jumped over Alyssa and straight back into the battle, once again wielding two swords.

Alyssa pushed herself to her feet, gasping a little, and saying breathlessly, 'The two that ran...'

'It's not as though those other two don't know how to kill something!' Morwyn answered, as she sliced the head from the shoulders of another wraith and its body vanished. She stepped back. 'And now we run.'

'Why? We've almost killed them all!'

'Say that to the new bunch who are now streaming down the slope towards us.'

_You are kidding me._ But Morwyn wasn't. More wraiths were starting to descend towards them.

Wordlessly they turned away from the remnants of the pack and sprinted for the tunnel. Ten wraiths was one thing—but about thirty wraiths? _Hell_, no.

Alyssa heard a wraith drawing nearer to her, but a black arrow blazed past her vision and struck it. She heard its shrieking howl. J'shana stood at the entrance, already targeting another wraith that was getting too close for comfort. The Nightingale Bow sang once again in her grip. Kajsa was leaning against the wall, kneeling, but her face rigid and set, what appeared to be a conjured bow in her grasp.

_Damn it! Why did I not learn conjuration in life?_ _It's freaking useful here!_

'Hurry!' J'shana urged them. 'We can't hold them for long!'

'You won't need to.' Morwyn, breathless, was the first to burst into the tunnel, and Alyssa ran through shortly afterward.

'Won't need to? It's just a cave!' Kajsa snapped, as she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, the bound bow fading from her fingers, and retreating further inside.

But soon her question was answered as the first wraiths of the mega-pack bounded towards the tunnel gleefully, and was repelled by the strange protection the word wall gave. With a hiss of frustration, it tried again, and again, each time failing rather ludicrously.

J'shana was perplexed. 'How...?'

'Word wall has benefits,' Morwyn replied, sitting down beside it, looking calm as you please, as though she had merely come home after chopping firewood all day.

'Don't bother wasting your arrows,' Alyssa advised J'shana. 'They're persistent but not overly stupid. They'll move off once they realize we're out of reach.'

The Khajiit flicked her tail, and then turned back from the entranceway, examining the cave. 'How did you find this place?' she asked enviously.

'Just found it,' answered Morwyn. She glanced at Alyssa. 'And now I'd like my sword back. If I find out it's scratched the wraiths won't be going home too disappointed.'

'Whatever.' Alyssa tossed the Ebony Sword across the room, and Morwyn (most impressively) caught it by its handle. 'I prefer the Nightingale Blade to that anyway.'

Both J'shana and Kajsa glanced at her in astonishment.

'You have the Nightingale Blade?' J'shana asked.

Alyssa looked J'shana up and down. 'You wear black Guildmaster's armour,' she assessed. 'And you carry the Nightingale Bow. Don't tell me, Karliah gave you that after you defeated Mercer and before you went to return the Skeleton Key to the Twilight Sepulcher. By the recognition on your face, Kajsa, I'd say that you're also Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild.'

Kajsa was immediately suspicious. 'How do you know that?'

'How do you know about the Nightingales?' J'shana asked in near amazement.

'Hey!' Morwyn interrupted. 'Alyssa has some pretty wacky theories on things, but some of them make sense—it's probably how four Dragonborns, Guildmasters and Nightingales are all standing in the same room.'

There was a silence. Then J'shana rubbed her head in total bemusement.

'By the Divines, it was confusing enough learning that Kajsa was like me. But more...?'

'Alternate Certainties,' Alyssa said, slightly wearily. She was a little colder, and a little more tired, and there was an uncomfortable feeling in her gut that felt as though she had accidentally swallowed a mouthful of snow and it wasn't quite melting yet. She sat down, leaning against the edge of the word wall. 'And if you sit down, then I'll explain exactly what is going on.'

J'shana and Kajsa exchanged a glance. Then, they sat down.

'Good.' Alyssa rubbed her head wearily, and drew her Cloak a little tighter over her shoulders. 'Now...where in Pass to start?'

* * *

**A/N: And now all the Dragonborns have been introduced! I wonder if any of you can name who the knights are...? And all shall be explained in time, in time...so how'd you like this chappy? Thumbs up or thumbs down? REVIEW! Shout is Out.**


	6. Truths Made Clear (And Unclear)

**A/N: Hey there, readers! Here's the next chapter for you to sink your teeth into.**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

If there had been a burning, bright fire in the cave when the Dragonborns had entered it, it would have been burning very low by the time J'shana and Kajsa understood. As the interior of the cavern was darker than the outer, and because it seemed right to have a little light while explaining, a Candlelight spell hovered overhead for the duration of the explanation, relit frequently by Kajsa, who proved quite adept at lighting dark rooms.

She couldn't help it. It was a relief from everything else to just do something that got a result in the end.

She shivered. The coldness and the exhaustion had not left her, and Kajsa was privately growing worried now. The teeth of the wraith, she had felt before, but this time had been so much more savage than the last. It felt as though an ice wraith had sunk its jaws eagerly into her flesh and torn a little bit of her out.

She didn't share her concerns with these strange figures who claimed to be Dragonborn. She still wasn't entirely sure she could trust them. Everything felt so strange, so bizarre...she had so many questions and she was afraid to ask them because she knew she'd receive no answer.

Alyssa—a weird name for a woman who claimed to be a Nord—had told them about the Alternate Certainties. That they were figureheads of their own dimensions—the Dragonborns of their own times, their own worlds. The world, it seemed, was full of parallel universes where there would be mirrors of themselves, portrayed in different ways. It unnerved Kajsa to think that this Dunmer, Nord and Khajiit were mirrors of herself, to think that they all had killed Alduin, that they all led the Thieves Guid—they all knew Karliah and Brynjolf and Mercer. They all had _killed_ Mercer. By Azura, it never seemed to end.

'So if we're of different...Certainties,' J'shana said slowly, actually making an effort to understand, 'how come we're here? In one place?'

'Pass is the only place where Alternate Certainties can collide,' Alyssa explained. 'It's not a set place, like Oblivion and Sovngarde, rather. Pass is the thing in the middle that makes something opposite. Oblivion, Pass, Aetherius. Death, Pass, life.'

'Good, Pass, evil?' Kajsa surmised sarcastically.

Morwyn snorted. 'Oh, if only.'

'No, Morwyn, Kajsa's right,' Alyssa frowned at the Dunmer. Kajsa furrowed her brow. She had meant that as sarcasm, damnit! 'Pass is neutral ground. It's where Time doesn't move. But something's warping it, making it a field of corruption when it shouldn't be. You don't understand Pass quite as well as I do because this is all your first time here.'

'You've been here before?' whispered J'shana.

_This is too much,_ Kajsa thought irritably. _Next she'll be saying she's actually Alduin in disguise._

Alyssa nodded. 'Once. I've been dead for quite a long time now—or, well, it feels like a long time. I've spent a lot of time exploring the various realms of death—Aetheirus, Sovngarde, the Currents...others. And I came to this place. Pass, though was too borderline for me to handle. I went back to the Currents shortly after arriving here.'

'So...you're some sort of...time-wanderer, then,' Kajsa said.

'Sort of,' Alyssa agreed.

Above them, the Candlelight spell began to dim. Kajsa glanced up at it absently and relit it, bathing them all in a gentle white glow again.

'If only,' sighed J'shana wistfully, 'we had some firewood. I'm so cold.'

Morwyn frowned at the Khajiit. 'Did the wraiths bite you?'

J'shana nodded. 'But not heavily. Enough to make me feel quite cool, but I can still fight, as you saw when you and Alyssa helped us. I'm just not used to it.'

Kajsa could only remember how the phantom had bitten her. It felt as though all the energy and will to live had been sucked out of her like a vampire sucked blood from a victim. She shivered at the mere memory of it. The cold had lessened slightly as her stolen essence returned to her, but not by much, and it was so frustratingly stubborn in her blood that nausea was climbing up again. She pictured that huge, freakish blob of light in that valley she and J'shana had discovered a while ago just a tad greyer than usual.

'Do you know what those things are, though?' she heard J'shana say, jolting Kajsa from her thoughts.

'We've taken to calling them wraiths,' Morwyn replied. 'And truth be told, I don't really give a damn what they're called, so long as they can still be delayed.'

'Delayed?' Kajsa echoed quietly.

'They don't die,' the Dunmer said. 'They only reform and come back in larger numbers.' She frowned. 'What we _haven't_ discovered yet is what they're exactly doing. Where all that essence that they're drinking from us poor, powerless Dragonborns is going, and what it's even being used for. Not all of it always returns—I don't want to think about the bit that gets away.'

Kajsa stiffened, and she and J'shana exchanged a glance.

'What is it?' Alyssa asked, her brow creasing a little.

_Gods_, that woman was nosy.

J'shana glanced back at her and stammered, 'We...we think we know where it's going.'

'You do?' Kajsa saw both Morwyn and Alyssa snap to attention.

'There was this...huge crater, or something,' J'shana began. 'And...and by huge, I mean, _really_ huge. The size of Whiterun Hold, surely.'

'In the centre, there was this...gigantic mass of energy.' Kajsa struggled to put what she had seen into words. The vision of that place still unnerved her. 'It was made of blue and grey lights. Above it, there was this huge black hole in the sky, like some kind of portal. The edges of the mass of energy and the portal were bleeding into each other.'

She paused, noticing that Alyssa had become very still. Morwyn's brow was furrowing deeper across her face.

'This...this portal,' said Alyssa quietly. 'Tell me more of it.'

'It was as wide as the energy source,' J'shana answered, sounding a little unsure herself now. She wrapped her tail a little tighter around her. 'Like...like a great big hole in the sky. The core was as black as a starless night. The edges were fraying, though, being drained downwards towards the blue-grey energy, and they turned dark red and purple, like blood, and conjuration magic...'

'It shouldn't be black.' Alyssa sounded agitated. 'Gods...it shouldn't be black...'

Kajsa narrowed her eyes. 'Do you know what it was?'

Alyssa nodded, and shared a grim glance with Morwyn.

'The _Vostrunmahsille_,' she said quietly. 'We've found it.'

'The what?' asked Kajsa.

'The Well of Souls,' Morwyn translated.

'The Well of Souls?' repeated J'shana. 'Was...was that what that great big pit in the ground was?' She stiffened, the fur rippling along her body. 'By the Divines...that energy in the centre...they were _souls?_'

'The grey,' Kajsa remembered. 'There was more grey than blue...grey of our strength...our being...'

'Your essence,' Alyssa murmured. 'The Well of Souls...of course we should have known that was where it was being channeled. Those wraiths...they must be feeding off the Well.'

'And whenever they are dispersed, they simply reform,' Morwyn said, and she frowned openly. 'Cowards! Freaking cowards, the lot of those bloody dogs!'

'You know the saying?' Kajsa said suddenly. 'A coward dies a thousand times...a warrior dies only once. How beautifully portrayed it is here.'

'I swear, I must've killed a thousand of those things,' Morwyn muttered. 'Correction—thousands of them! And if I have to kill the same freaking wraith wolf or whatever the hell they are a thousand times each...then bring it on!'

Kajsa frowned and shot a questioning glance at Alyssa. She shrugged and smiled at her.

'Don't mind Morwyn. She's quite mad.'

* * *

J'shana couldn't sleep.

She lay down and closed her eyes but each time she tried to doze off, her body, despite its exhaustion, did not permit her to. For a long time she lay still, trying to breathe slowly and deeply in and out, in and out...but her mind was too restless, even if her body was desperate for rest.

Across the cave, Kajsa and Morwyn were deep in Vaermina's realm, but Alyssa wasn't sleeping. She was sitting at the mouth of it, staring out blankly at the grey world that lay beyond it.

J'shana lifted her head a little. It was difficult sleeping on solid stone ground, but her body didn't feel quite as uncomfortable as normally it would have. She was still trying to adjust to all that Alyssa had told her...maybe that was the reason why she couldn't go to sleep.

_Strange,_ she thought, faintly amused for a moment. _We don't seem to need to eat, but we still need to sleep._ Then the mirth left her as she reminded herself of the grave situation that she and her...mirrors...were in.

_Mirrors—Alternate Certainties, she calls it,_ J'shana remembered. _Parallel worlds...how does she know these things?_ She still had dozens of questions. She still had so much she didn't understand—this...what had they called it? The Well of Souls? What did it mean...was that where all her power was? Where Kajsa's was, and Morwyn's, and Alyssa's?

Eventually she gave up sleeping and sat up. J'shana sighed softly to herself, feeling troubled. She remembered all who she had left behind at home, and she felt a feeling of longing rise in her chest as she remembered her beloved Derkeethus, and her precious children . Were they wondering where she was? Did they even know that she had died?

But she remembered what Alyssa had told her about Pass. It was a place where Time stood still. Merely a borderland between death and life, and was the thing that sat directly between anything that was opposite to each other. But Pass, formerly neutral, formerly still, was changing, becoming ridged, becoming torn apart by some unfathomable menace.

J'shana saw Alyssa move slightly at the front of the cave. She glanced back at her, her green eyes thoughtful. They cleared when they met J'shana's own copper-orange. She didn't look surprised to see her awake.

'Can't sleep either?'

J'shana shook her head, rising to her feet and coming to sit beside Alyssa. 'I can't get anything out of my head long enough to get a bit of shuteye,' she admitted ruefully.

Alyssa smiled faintly, turning her gaze back out to the grey lands beyond. She seemed pleased with company, J'shana guessed, which was a good sign.

'I don't sleep much,' Alyssa said quietly. 'I'm still adapting from being dead to...being in-between. Half alive. Half dead.'

J'shana frowned. 'Is this what all of us are? In...in between?'

'Yes. Not quite dead. Not quite alive.'

Alyssa let out a soft sigh. 'And being here opens up old wounds. Rekindles old longings. Gods, I'm desperate to get back to my skies.'

'You've mentioned your skies once or twice,' J'shana remembered aloud. 'Something about Currents...'

'Yes, Currents of Time. Not Convexity, where Alduin was trapped, banished by the Elder Scrolls, but the actual Currents. I also call it the Vortex. A worm hole, a movement that moves both forward and back.' Alyssa's eyes shadowed, and J'shana wondered if she was remembering some old memory. 'The first time I went through the Vortex, it affected me hugely. I lost nearly all my memory. Time affects the _dov_ more than it affects any other creature. And because I didn't go through willingly...there were consequences.'

J'shana frowned. The word _Dov_... 'Morwyn told me that you were able to speak parts of Draconic,' she said. 'The rest of us, even her, lost all knowledge of the language. That your family...' She felt a shiver of awe run down her spine. 'That your entire _family_ were like you. Dragons, in mortal bodies.'

Alyssa was quiet.

'Is it true?' J'shana breathed.

Then, she nodded.

'Yes, it's true. My family was remnants of Septims.'

J'shana's ears flicked forward. 'You're the heirs to the Throne?'

'Was. In my world I was the last. I never claimed the Throne. It was not mine to claim. And I wasn't going to place my family under chains.'

J'shana was confused. 'Chains? Having a Dragonborn Emperor in Mundus would have been glorious! You could have stopped the Great War from ever occurring. You could have preserved so many...'

'And at what cost?' Alyssa sounded almost angry. 'We would have only begun the process again, the Dragonfires, the sealing. Have a frail line of humans as the only line of defense against the merciless armies of the Daedra? And of Mehrunes Dagon, in particular, a Prince of Destruction, who is just as cruel and as unforgiving as Alduin...'

'I know the Oblivion Crisis,' J'shana said. 'I know the stories. And I know how the Tygra were involved. It seems that my...my Alternate Certainty is linked to yours. Whispered among the Tygra was the legendary friendship the descended J'shana Tygra had with one Tacita Laryssin.'

The name was significant to Alyssa. She stared at J'shana in surprise.

'My ancestor was in your parallel dimension?'

J'shana nodded. 'Kanij and Tacita did many great things.'

Alyssa was thoughtful again.

'But you're named after the Sister God. Completely.'

J'shana smiled wryly. 'My father called me after the legend. I'm both wise beyond my years and a powerful, fearless warrior. Or so others tell me. I certainly felt that way when my tribe still lived. And when it turned out I was Dragonborn...that yes, I was indeed the fabled warrior just like Kanij, my great ancestor was...I guess he was right. I did possess the twin bloods in the end.'

Alyssa smiled faintly.

'I don't have quite the fascinating story behind my name.'

'But you're called Alyssa. You're named like an Imperial, when you were born Nord. Even your last name, "Laryssin", it isn't remotely Nordic.'

'The bloodline shifted from Imperial to Nord throughout the two hundred years between the end of the Oblivion Crisis and Alduin's return to Nirn,' Alyssa explained quietly. 'But we were still true dragons. We were still direct descendants of Akatosh. And, because of Tiber Septim, also Talos.' She sighed. 'It was quite exhausting, at times, knowing that we were the sons and daughters of not one, but _two_ Aedra. One of the reasons we stayed at our Estate, isolated from the rest of the world.'

J'shana was silent for a moment, remembering. Then, at last, she said, 'Around the same time that my tribe was slain by the Thalmor...we heard that the Laryssins had been slain as well. Their Estate burned, and the family killed.'

Alyssa was intrigued. 'In your Certainty...I must have died in that fire. How strange.'

'Yes.' J'shana struggled with this. 'Very strange indeed.'

It was nothing but eerie, in this place, speaking with a fellow Dragonborn...one whose family had become a part of her own Certainty...but J'shana felt respect for her. She was...well, out of the Dragonborns here that she had met, Alyssa by far was the one who intrigued her the most.

'Is it because you weren't blessed with the blood that you can speak Draconic?' J'shana asked quietly. 'That you didn't lose your power of speech like the rest of us? Or...or because you're a direct descendant of Akatosh?'

Alyssa shook her head. 'Neither. I've already explained this to Morwyn, but it's because I was taught some of the language. I wasn't simply given the knowledge, like most Dragonborns do. You knew Draconic because you absorbed dragon souls, and gained the knowledge of speaking it directly. I was taught it, as a girl, in the way you learn your mother tongue. My family were fluent speakers...it was natural for me to pick up on some of it, but I also had full-on lessons.'

J'shana was amazed. 'You learned Draconic just as you learned the common tongue. Is this why you can still speak it? Because...the knowledge wasn't...wasn't taken from you?'

'I can't speak all of it,' Alyssa said. 'It took my father most of his life to learn how to speak it fluently. He learned from his father. I only had my childhood. I learned how to speak a very small amount fluently, and words directly. I became a fluent speaker after I devoured several dragon souls—and lost that fluency when it was taken. But what I had learned before devouring a dragon soul, stayed with me, just as Tamrielic stayed with you. It was knowledge that you had earned. And knowledge that you would keep.'

J'shana pondered this. 'It makes sense,' she said slowly.

Alyssa slowly nodded. Her eyes were back on the greyish horizon.

'I can still speak in Ta'agra,' J'shana reflected. 'And, of course, the common tongue. I don't know Draconic anymore.' She felt quite cold and empty without the knowledge of the dragons coursing through her veins. Distantly she remembered telling Brynjolf and Karliah after they had discovered she was Dragonborn in Irkngthand, and she was aware now of how much of a burden she had made it sound. Now she felt quite lost without it.

It made her remember what Alyssa and Morwyn had called the "Well of Souls". The thing that she and Kajsa had stumbled across on complete accident. The dreadful dark hole in the sky, bleeding into the mass of blue and grey energy. J'shana shivered. The cold had not left her, and nor was she comfortable with it.

There was a thoughtful gleam in Alyssa's eyes as she gazed out from the cave.

'What are you thinking about now?' J'shana asked quietly.

She wondered if Alyssa was going to tell her. She knew Kajsa was very secretive and didn't seem to take to strangers, treating her with great caution as though she was suddenly going to lash out at her. And Morwyn...well, Morwyn was definitely someone who J'shana found herself liking, but she was a little too...unpredictable.

But after a moment, Alyssa sighed softly and said, 'My family.'

'You mean your mother and father?'

'No. _My_ family. My husband. My daughter. My pets.'

J'shana felt a small tug at her heart. 'I know how you feel.'

Alyssa glanced at J'shana, a small smile on her face. 'You have a family too?'

'Yes. I married a good man. Derkeethus. I have two children. They're the light of my world now. I love them so. And I miss them terribly.' Speaking of them, J'shana could see their faces swimming in front of her mind. She remembered her wedding day...the ecstasy she had felt upon discovering she was with child...the happiness she shared as she watched her children grow...She was unable to resist a small tear rolling down her cheek, and impatiently she brushed it away.

Alyssa nodded slowly. 'You found happiness at last, then.'

'I did, yes,' J'shana answered truthfully. 'It breaks my heart to know I might never see them again. But I know that the Guild will protect them with their lives, and Derkeethus, with his a thousand times over.'

She saw sadness glittering in Alyssa's eyes and was confused. 'You seem sad to think about your family.'

'I am, a little.' Alyssa sighed. 'I married Ralof, after the chaos of Castle Volkihar. And we left Skyrim. I wanted peace...and time to be happy. I was aware that I didn't have much left.'

J'shana frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'I don't look like this all the time. Brown hair. Green eyes. Only a few little scars at the edge of my face, a lucky hit from a bandit or a scratch from a sabre cat. It's only an illusion. I wear this Cloak to hide my real scars.' Alyssa breathed out slowly. 'Morwyn's seen what I really am under the Cloak. It was enough to shock even her, a daughter of Sheogorath. She's meant to be the unpredictable one.'

J'shana examined the fabric. It was a subtle russet-gold, like old embers, but seemed sun-baked, like a stone that was bleached by the sun. It was beautiful, though. The edges seemed to shine like flame. 'It's nothing like I've ever seen before,' she mused.

'It's woven from Akatosh's heartscales. He gave it to me when the process began.'

J'shana heard a shiver of fear slide into Alyssa's voice and glanced up sharply.

'Process?' _And the Cloak is really from Akatosh?!_

'It doesn't matter. I'd...I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind.'

'No, no. Of course.'

When a tense moment passed, J'shana prompted softly, 'You mentioned you had a daughter.'

Alyssa nodded. 'Freia. She was the love and light of my life. It tore me apart to leave her when she was ten. Still so young. Still so innocent. And she saw things no ten-year-old should have to see.'

There was pain in her voice. J'shana placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

'She,' murmured Alyssa, 'had a real talent for speaking Draconic.'

'Was she Dragonborn?'

'No.'

This took J'shana by surprise. 'She wasn't?'

'No.' Alyssa sighed, but there was a relieved expression on her face. 'And thank the Gods she wasn't. She was the first Laryssin in over two hundred years to be born without a dragon's soul, and she was liberated, free to make her own choices. Oh, she possessed the blood—that was inevitable—but not the soul. The blood gave her ability to speak and learn the dragon's tongue faster than anyone I've ever seen, but her soul was her own. She was free to make her own decisions. Something that a Laryssin hadn't been able to do for centuries.'

She was quiet after that, and J'shana sensed she shouldn't ask any more about her family. It seemed to be a sensitive matter for her. But Alyssa didn't seem to not want her presence. She seemed contented with it.

After a moment, J'shana said, 'It must be lonely, wandering.'

Alyssa smiled a little.

'Oh, no. For once I was liberated. I was what I was meant to be all my life. Free to rule the skies, my time grounded done.'

J'shana knew the feeling of flight. It had been wonderful. Truly wonderful. She wondered if all the Dragonborns had truly connected with their inner selves in the land of Sovngarde, facing down a God not as a mortal, but as a true daughter of the dragons.

A soft rumbling noise rippled through the sky above them, and J'shana and Alyssa's gazes were drawn to the sky. There were dark clouds beginning to cover the former blankness now. Very, very slowly circling a distant point.

'The Well of Souls,' murmured Alyssa. 'It's growing fuller. More complete. The menace is slowly gaining power as we are losing it.'

'Is there any way to stop it?' whispered J'shana.

Alyssa was silent for a few seconds. Then, 'Moments before I woke here, I was visited by a Psijic monk. We've...had disagreements. But he told me that the Vortex was being torn apart. Alternate Certainties would collide. A creature who was desperate for power was harvesting us there. And he said that I have the essence that he needs to complete his power.'

J'shana felt the fur ripple along her spine. 'Is Alduin fighting to return?' she murmured. _So soon?_

Alyssa's eyes narrowed darkly.

'I don't know who or what the menace is,' she said softly. 'But I know that it is not Alduin.'

J'shana wondered how she could sound so certain. But she didn't ask the question out loud.

* * *

**A/N: I'm trying to figure out exactly when Alyssa's secret will be shown to one and all. Hmm. In any case, till next week, please please review :D**


	7. The Pain of Chains

**A/N: Hi, readers! Sorry this took a bit longer. I was rushed off to a relative's for a night and I quite literally uploaded this the instant I got back. So! Here it is...**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Quill could feel it inside of her. Restless. Raging. Roaring. She felt her teeth itch and her fingertips tingle, and she softly growled as she hunched over double.

She could hear its voice in her head now. Howling. She could feel a delightful savageness flooding through every fiery inch of her body. She flexed her hands that were tingling like a storm. Her skin was prickling.

A soft growl escaped her throat. But it was laced with her own weak, whimpering voice.

She knew it was in there. She could feel it. She could sense it pacing in her mind. The shadows in her head were receding. The beast was impatient. There was a frustrated gleam in its eyes as it paced. It seemed to be walking up to the edge of a line. And there, it stopped, as though unable to go further.

She concentrated harder. She sank to her knees, plunging her hands into the soft, dead grey snow beneath her. She felt her insides churn and her eyes burn. She swallowed back her nausea, focusing, forcing the wolf forward, over that boundary. But, stubborn as stone, it wasn't able to move.

_Come on!_ she yelled in total frustration at it. The beast looked perplexed and insulted but still it refused to move. It paced the spot with its paws, unable to move for some very bizarre reason. Some invisible barrier was preventing it from coming forward any more. The blood was pounding in her ears. Her senses were becoming keener. The winds had a voice of their own. The ground was vibrating, and with a short interval of lessened vibrations, they would grow stronger and louder. Her blood was pounding louder than ever. All she needed was that one...final..._push_...

'I wouldn't keep trying.'

A booming, familiar voice sliced through her frail strings of concentration, and like a startled fox, the beast leapt away from the boundary line and back into the darkness of her mind as though it were shy.

Quill felt exhausted. She was breathing irregularly, her breaths light and shallow but steadily deepening and becoming steadier. Her vision spun for a slight moment, and then faded. The nausea went away shortly afterwards. She became aware who had spoken and muttered in response, 'I'll keep trying until I get somewhere.'

There was a soft, husky and mirthless chuckle somewhere above her. 'Then you're going to be trying for a long time, my friend.'

A scaled hand flashed across her vision and Quill accepted it, letting Shouts-at-Sun pull her back onto her feet.

'You shouldn't go wandering off on your own like that,' Shouts-at-Sun added. Quill heard the genuine concern in his voice. 'They might find you again.'

'I'm fine,' Quill retorted. 'I don't need protecting.'

'I wasn't suggesting that. But it beats being alone here.'

That was true. Quill remembered that she did owe her life to this Argonian, and since they had first formally met, they had stayed together. It was easier to face the hordes of angry spectral creatures and those terrible knights when you weren't alone.

They walked back to where they had temporarily set up camp. 'But why do you keep trying to change into the wolf, anyway?' Shouts-at-Sun asked.

Quill shrugged. 'I guess I just wanted to be something a little stronger than this weak body.' She gestured to her slight frame. She couldn't stop thinking about the way she had died. The blow she had received...it only reminded her just how fragile the body was. How fragile life was in itself.

The camp was set up beneath the branches of an enormous tree they had discovered. The branches were very large and heavy—and when the strange spectral creatures came back, they climbed up into the branches and Shouts-at-Sun would take care of them with his crossbow. He was surprisingly accurate.

They sat down with their back against the tree trunk and looked out into the thick, murky fog that surrounded them. Shouts-at-Sun rested his crossbow over his lap, his bright blue eyes searching the mist as though expecting movement to sound within.

Quill's fingers slid through the soft slush beneath her.

'I wonder where we are,' she mused aloud. 'Some realm of Oblivion, perhaps?'

'I wouldn't know,' Shouts-at-Sun answered. He shrugged, and the dragonbone on his shoulders rattled. 'I only ever served three Princes in my life. Hermaeus Mora, Meridia, and Azura.'

'An odd combination,' Quill commented curiously. 'Why Azura?' She frowned a little. 'Hermaeus Mora, we didn't have much of a choice, I suppose...just appearing in Septimus Signus's outpost.' Both of them had come to accept the fact that somehow, they had existed in unison alongside one another, and had done many of the things the other had also accomplished. While they didn't know the answer as to how exactly that had managed to work, it did seem to make conversations easier.

Shouts-at-Sun shrugged again. 'I was advised by a good friend of mine.'

Quill frowned a little. 'You've mentioned this "good friend" of yours a few times, to my memory. But you've never said who he is.'

'Do you want to hear about him?'

'Very much so. I'm in the mood for stories.'

Shouts-at-Sun chuckled. 'Well, this is quite the story.'

He swept his tail a little tighter around his legs. Quill found herself staring at it, just out of habit, and partly out of total fascination. She had seen plenty of Argonians in Skyrim but never an Argonian who bore such a bizarre appearance. He had a huge dagger-shaped, and very sharp, spike on the end of his tail that he called a tail-blade. His face was strangely angular for an Argonian of the marshlands, and he bore a crest of such dragonish head horns that Quill could certainly picture him being Dragonborn.

He didn't talk too much about it, and Quill made a mental note to ask about his bizarre appearance later.

'You see, I was on my way to Ustengrav, after I completed my training from the Greybeards,' Shouts-at-Sun began. 'Back then, I was quite young to the understanding of dragonslaying. I was quite reluctant to kill them. I still am—I try to give them a chance, but most simply attack.'

Quill asked, 'Why do you try to talk them out of it? They're dragons—minions of Alduin.'

'Not all,' Shouts-at-Sun corrected. 'But back then, my skills weren't up to scratch against dragons, either. I killed Mirmulnir with a group of guards from Whiterun to help me—he was the first I slew. But out in the wilds I was attacked by a dragon on my own and I was losing against it. Through the battle I saw another dragon appear and circle overhead—a big grey one. At first, I thought he was reinforcements in case the first one failed.' He laughed. 'I was quite wrong.'

Quill frowned. 'What—did it _help_ you?'

'He did,' Shouts-at-Sun answered. 'The dragon who I was fighting was about to kill me, but the grey one swept down and knocked him aside and defeated him. When he turned to me, he didn't attack, as I formerly guessed he would, but greeted me, and introduced himself as Lokhunnonvul.'

'That's quite a long name,' Quill commented. 'But...the dragon helped you?' The only dragon who had sworn service to her had been Odahviing. And she had been his master for around one minute.

'Yes, he did,' Shouts-at-Sun replied. 'He took me to an ancient monastery called Highpass. Lokhunnonvul was the last surviving member of a very ancient order who were a resistance against Alduin—well, so I thought, at first. Now he has an apprentice, a dragon who formerly served Alduin but now is a part of Lokhunnonvul's resistance, Kooriizstrun. But back to what I was saying earlier—in Highpass he answered a few questions, and we bound our minds as one, forming a link between us so we could communicate over great distances.'

Quill sat up a little. 'You bound your _minds?_'

'Back then,' Shouts-at-Sun explained, 'I still needed a lot of guidance. And Lokhunnonvul is a dragon who is quite...unique.' He softly sighed. 'He's aided me more times than I can count. I miss him—I hope he's doing all right in Tamriel.'

'Did he help you defeat Alduin?' Quill asked curiously.

'No. He couldn't come with me—the portal to Sovngarde opened for Alduin, but only one other could follow him through it.' Shouts-at-Sun smiled a little. 'But I wasn't entirely absent of a dragon ally in Sovngarde...'

He flicked his tail absently as he spoke, attracting Quill's attention to it, yet again.

'How,' Quill asked at last, 'did you get it?'

'Get what?'

'That...that _thing_, on the end of your tail.'

Shouts-at-Sun shot it an absent glance, and flicked it again. 'A tail-blade,' he said. 'Something that a few dragons possess. It's proven useful a few times.'

'Right...a tail-blade.'

Shouts-at-Sun smiled at the incredulous expression on Quill's face. 'You don't quite believe me, do you?'

'Well...it's not everyday you see an Argonian with a huge spike on the end of his tail...'

'I have spikes on my head and my face—why not on my tail?' He was grinning now.

Quill frowned. 'That is _not_ a spike. That looks like a sword has been tied to your tailtip.'

'If that's the case, then I suppose I can say I'm never unarmed.'

They looked out over the grey lands that swept around them. Quill's eyes flashed up at the sky—she could only remember the time when she had faced Alduin on the Throat of the World...and those who had followed her there. How the sky had churned that day. The clouds were starting to gather in the skies here now, too. Before, they had been bleak and empty. But some uncanny force was making them come and populate the sky and give this place an even more chilling, haunting look.

'Do you think there's a way out?' The words burst from Quill's mouth.

Shouts-at-Sun frowned a little. 'I can't say for sure,' he said. 'There doesn't seem to be any kind of end to this place. And it seems to grow a little bit darker as every little moment passes.'

He glanced at her. 'You're thinking of Sovngarde, aren't you?'

'Yes. I'm dead...I should be there, not...not here.' Quill shivered, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. 'I mean, I had just left it a few moments before I died. Alduin had struck a mortal blow.' She shuddered as she remembered the intense pain of his teeth in her side. Tearing a fatal wound.

But she couldn't help but remember...

She had faced Alduin. She had seen the huge black dragon. They had fought. But then she had heard a voice sound near her. It had been no more than a grunt of surprise. She had whirled around. For the briefest of moments, as the fiery rock collided with the ground, she had seen a flash of white—white robes—leap out of the way of the storm of ashes that followed.

She thought she was hallucinating. More so, when Alduin's teeth tore into her side. She had sliced her sword into his head until he released her. She had seen the white flash, yet again.

She had gone to the Throat of the World. There were the dragons. They gave her their praise and gratitude and flew into the snow-flecked sky, perhaps to live a life unguided by Alduin's dark tyranny. Paarthurnax had wished her well and taken flight alongside the others. Odahviing had promised her his aid and vanished.

And that was when her strength left her. She had fallen to the snow. But as she lay there, feeling her lifeblood bleed around her, she had heard—she had undeniably heard a whisper in her ears.

And it had sounded very suspiciously like: '_Drink a potion, damn it, or cast a bloody spell._'

Those were words, Quill knew, that would have been spoken by someone who still thought them rather remarkable small miracles. But she knew she must have been hallucinating. Why would he be there? Either he was there, or he wasn't.

She hadn't had long to ponder over it. She felt a dark coldness settle through her body. It was a strange sensation, dying. Almost peaceful, in a way. Nothing like she had expected. And then...then she had woken up here. Still in her Nightingale armour. Still with her sword...and, more importantly, her satchel...and entirely absent of her abilities.

'Are you okay?'

His voice jerked her out of her thoughts, and Quill nodded. 'Yes. I'm fine.'

'You don't sound fine.' Shouts-at-Sun was sympathetic.

She shrugged. 'Just...just thinking, I guess. About friends I left behind as well.'

Softly, Quill sighed. 'I feel so alone. More alone than I felt in Skyrim.'

Shouts-at-Sun frowned. 'You didn't have anyone you cared about? Or who cared about you?'

_Only one..._

'Not really. I was several things—Harbinger, Guildmaster, Listener, Arch-Mage...but Dragonborn...' Quill sighed. 'I didn't really want any of the titles. I wasn't a leader. I don't know why the Gods chose me for such a role. Why didn't they choose someone who was more willing and accepting of their destiny? Vilkas of the Companions, for example? He was honourable in every way. A strong warrior, a loyal fighter...'

'A werewolf, too,' Shouts-at-Sun added.

Quill glanced at him in surprise. 'You know?'

'I'm the Harbinger of the Companions as well. And a werewolf.' Shouts-at-Sun rested a copper-orange hand on her shoulder. Distantly, Quill remembered it was the shoulder that bore stitch scars, when her magic had died and not returned, and she had to have it healed in the longer, slower way that...

Don't think about him. It'd only hurt later.

'But perhaps the Gods chose you because you didn't feel ready,' Shouts-at-Sun said. 'They don't just idly choose their Dragonborns, you know. I felt the same—I wondered why they had picked me, who spent his time before Skyrim working in an inn in Kvatch in Cyrodiil. I had nothing to do with dragons until then. In Skyrim, I found my destiny, and it turned out I had far more to do with the dragons than I previously thought.'

Quill frowned a little. 'But I was just an orphaned girl. A farmer raised me. I became a thief and an assassin as well as a warrior. What kind of Dragonborn is a thief and an assassin? Heroes always walk paths of light.'

'Unless they are dark heroes.'

Quill shook her head. 'I don't understand.'

'Nor do I,' Shouts-at-Sun said. 'But something that I remember my old boss telling me was this; is a hero someone who walks a path of light and honour, or a hero who triumphs over a dark path and finds the lighter?'

Quill paused, mulling over the words.

'But since when have great heroes walked dark paths?'

'Oh, many times,' Shouts-at-Sun answered. 'The Nerevarine, for example. He woke in the hull of a boat as a prisoner. He became Tamriel's only hope for sealing away the black Heart of Lorkhan. And the Champion of Cyrodiil. He, too, was a prisoner. But he became the Hero of Kvatch, Saviour of Bruma...he carried many titles in his time. In the end he moved to the Shivering Isles. But that's another story. And then you only have to look at us. We awoke on a cart bound and sent for execution. And soon, we became all of Nirn's only hopes in facing Alduin the World-Eater.'

Quill shook her head. 'I never felt ready. I was a thief and an assassin. I stole things. I took lives of others in the dark. I slit their throats and stabbed their backs for money. Can you imagine Talos doing those things? Hell, _Ysgramor_, even?'

'Well...no. But heroes come in all shapes and sizes. And Talos and Ysgramor...well, some are just born to be great. And some have to be dark heroes.'

Quill looked at Shouts-at-Sun and inquired, 'Excuse me? Since when did you become a philosopher?'

Shouts-at-Sun laughed. 'Lydia often said the same.'

* * *

When Alyssa opened her eyes, she was aware that something was very wrong.

She didn't move immediately, however. She continued the illusion that she was sleeping. But she knew that there was someone outside...someone who she sensed was not friendly.

Around her, she heard the steady breathing of her companions. They were all asleep. Alyssa wondered why she wasn't, and why some compulsive instinct was warning her to stay very still. She kept her breathing low and steady.

She heard heavy footsteps outside. Shifting the ashy snow. She frowned.

When she heard the rasp of steel...

Alyssa sat up in a flash, in time to see a shadow fall across the entrance to the cave. A figure stood just beyond. And a figure she felt she recognized immediately.

'Shit,' she whispered.

That cross on his front was unmistakable.

Roused by the simple, hissed word, Morwyn seemed to blink awake as well. And she spotted the knight quicker than Alyssa had.

Her eyes flashed. Alyssa wondered what Morwyn was thinking at this time. Probably some cynical thought like, _Is that any way to wake up a woman?_

For a moment, the knight stood silently outside. Alyssa wondered if he was trying to get in.

But disbelief coursed through her when she saw the figure walk into the cave.

Alyssa flipped onto her back and then onto her feet instantly, with such suddenness that it took even Morwyn by surprise. She was aware her breathing had quickened, but a strange feeling was flooding through her veins.

She wasn't sure what it was yet. All she knew was that suddenly...she felt very much like who she had been in life.

'Don't try to struggle.' The knight's voice rasped beneath his helmet. 'It will be quick.'

'Since when have my kind listened to yours?' Alyssa asked softly.

Their words rang around the chamber. Behind her she sensed Kajsa and J'shana move, but Morwyn said in a low and wary voice, 'Don't go near him.'

Morwyn. _Wary_.

Alyssa wondered if she herself was going mad.

The long steel sword rested in the gauntleted hand.

'But what I'd like to know,' Alyssa said quietly, 'before we begin in earnest, is why you're here at all. How you're in Pass. You're not even of this world. So get out. Go home. You've already got an eternal war to worry about.'

'The rest of your Order can wait,' the knight growled. 'It's you who _Lahkendov_ wants.'

'You are kidding me,' muttered Alyssa. Raising her voice, she snapped, 'You're back to using freaking code names—and this time, they're Draconic?! You add insult to injury.'

The knight stepped towards her. Instantly Alyssa released the wristblades. They glinted, the one on her right beneath her wrist and fingers, and the other over the knuckles on her left hand. She saw him stop, his helmet move slightly on his head. He had taken note of the weapons. He recognized them. And he was cautious.

'Alyssa,' she heard Kajsa say cautiously behind her. 'Who...what...is this?'

'Someone who you won't be able to hurt,' Alyssa answered. 'He and I are old enemies.'

She prayed that this wasn't some kind of bluff. That her weapons would work on him. If they didn't...she didn't know what she was going to defend herself with.

'Why fight?' the knight asked, in an almost questioning voice. 'You're already weakened. You've already lost. You're trapped here. The only way back is to go to the place where you're trying to avoid.'

Alyssa restrained a wolflike snarl. 'That's the way you made me feel the first time. But that time, you failed. You lashed me three times to your world and still you failed. The bonds are broken. You're just an old nightmare. An old memory.'

'A memory brought to life. There is no point in fighting. Your friends will be harvested. Your power will be tamed.'

'He sounds like a nutter,' J'shana hissed.

'I'd actually like to know what they're talking about,' Kajsa admitted.

'I'll explain later,' Alyssa answered. She did not take her eyes off the knight.

'Do you really want more to die for your sake?' the knight challenged. 'We found another, you know. Just like you. With the same weapon on her arm. She will be found and she will be harvested like all the others.'

Alyssa frowned. 'Other?'

'You think you are the only one.' The knight took a pace forward, but this time, Alyssa did not step back.

'Who do you speak of?' she demanded.

'It matters not. You will be tamed. _Lahkendov_ will have his prize. Me and my brothers will have our vengeance.'

Alyssa glared at him. 'And by "brother"...you mean your Brotherhood? Or do you mean the Fragments? There is going to be _hell_ to pay if they are here, too...'

'The Fragments do not exist here,' the knight said quietly. 'The Brotherhood does. We have been looking for you for a long time. You will run no more, Dragonrider.'

_Dragonrider._ The name stung like a whiplash to the face.

'You have _no right_,' she hissed, her voice trembling in rage. '_No right_ to call me by that name.' She stepped forward, not back. 'How dare you.'

The knight did not answer. His sword moved—Alyssa knew that if she had never met this kind of warrior before, she would have totally no idea how to fight him.

Oh, but she had met his kind before. She had killed his kind before. And she had trained to kill more.

In a flash she dropped low, the blade swishing past her head. She stepped away from him, finding herself enough fighting room. The knight lowered his sword and moved forward, raising it. It was an old stance that Alyssa knew well. She dropped into it, the two blades raised in a defensive position before her.

When the blade came swishing towards her, she brought the wristblades locking together, and she pushed down, shrugging away the punishing blow of the knight's sword. The knight staggered. Alyssa vaguely remembered that these moves were after his time—and suddenly, she knew she had the advantage on him. He had not yet faced one like her who possessed two of the blades.

She led the offensive. She spun, twisted, ducked—her twin wristblades sang in the air as they clashed again and again against steel, some so hard and abruptly that sparks flew off the edges. The knight staggered backwards. Then he recovered—and he led the attack. The blade swept straight towards Alyssa's chest.

She leapt backwards and it sliced through the open air in front of her.

_How many times have I done this?_ Alyssa wondered dizzily, as she countered savagely. She skillfully flicked her wrist downwards. The wristblade on her left arm tore a sweeping gash down his arm and he grunted.

But instead of blood, only a teal-gold energy seeped and seemed to disappear into the air as soon as it touched it, thin strands bleeding out and then vanishing, like the edges of a Candlelight spell.

The knight stepped backwards, as though weakened. He was off-balance. Alyssa knew this was her chance. She ran towards him, and at the last moment, throwing her right hand forward to steady her, and her left arm back, she pushed off into the air.

Gods, it felt _good_ to do this again!

The knight stepped backwards, but he couldn't move in time. Alyssa knocked her knees against his chest, throwing him to the ground. The force of her jump brought her left arm swinging around, and the blade sinking up to her knuckles in his throat. Her right arm had been thrown backwards as her left had swung around, and now slowly she brought it down, let it hover over the knight's heart, but not pushing it in. She had already delivered the death blow.

Slowly she drew it out. The strange teal-gold energy seeped out from the wound, in a greater and stronger tide than the gash she had cut on his arm.

For a moment, the knight silently lay there.

Alyssa, out of old habit, pressed her hand against his helmet. She whispered a prayer.

Then his body faded away, until there was nothing left.

Alyssa pushed herself onto her feet, sheathing her wristblades. She was aware that J'shana, Kajsa and Morwyn were staring at her, clearly uncertain what to say to what had just happened.

At last, Morwyn spoke:

'Your combat skills aren't so shoddy, then.'

'What...who was that?' asked J'shana quietly, staring at the place where the knight had faded.

'He,' said Alyssa, 'was an enemy. One from the other world.'

'You mean...' Kajsa frowned, trying to figure it out. 'He wasn't from Skyrim?'

'He can't have,' Morwyn reasoned, with a frown. 'Some of those knights have attacked me. My weapons had no effect on them.' She looked curiously at Alyssa. 'Where _did_ you get those...those arm-blades?' She sounded as though she had been pondering the question for a while.

Alyssa smirked mirthlessly. 'From a time quite after our own,' she said. 'But I've been using them ever since.'

She remembered, though, how he was able to come in. Somehow, those barriers that kept the wraiths out didn't apply to the knights. 'But we're going to have to be careful. It seems that being of a different world, even the same barriers don't seem to work.'

J'shana flicked her tail thoughtfully. 'But can they hurt us?'

'Oh, yes. They can hurt you,' Alyssa answered quietly.

Kajsa snorted. 'Nothing here plays fair.'

'Since when have our enemies done that?' Morwyn inquired. 'And when you think about it, we haven't exactly been playing fair, either.'

'But is he dead permanently?' J'shana frowned. 'Is he able to come back, reform?'

Alyssa recalled the colour of his "blood". 'Teal and gold,' she commented absently to herself. 'Makes a change from blue and grey. But I daresay that yes, he will be able to return. The Vortex is being torn apart.'

She heard the Psijic monk's words resonate in her mind. _It affects not just the world of the dead—it affects the Alternate Certainties, too. All of them! Not just of your world, or the next world, but worlds in parallel unison to yours!_

The next world...

They were involved, too.

Gods-_damn it_.

'He did mention that there was another like me, though,' muttered Alyssa. _Which means that she must have had experience of the Vortex, whoever she is, and wherever she is...if she isn't harvested yet, like what's happened to so many hapless others._

'I don't understand,' said Kajsa, frowning a little. 'What did he mean—_like_ you?'

'He called you something,' Morwyn added. ' "Dragonrider". Every single one of us here rode on Odahviing to Skuldafn. But it seemed to matter quite meaningfully to you. Care to explain?'

_Oh, doesn't it refer to Odahviing..._

Suddenly, Alyssa wondered if Odahviing—the one from _her_ Certainty, mind—was here, too. He had had experiences of the Vortex. He was dead as well. Could it be possible that he had been brought to Pass?

Could _they_...?

No. Surely not. They weren't of this world. They weren't dragons. They were something completely different.

She jerked out of her thoughts. 'It is a _really_ long story,' she told them. 'And one I'm not too sure I'm ready to share at this current time.'

After a moment, J'shana said quietly, 'Do they have a name, at least?'

'Yes, they do—but I'm not going to grace them with calling them by their names.' Alyssa narrowed her eyes. 'And we all know that words have power. For now, though, even the name "knights" is too good for them. Since they're speaking in code names—' _Again_ '—then we'll do the same.'

'But they belong to a Brotherhood.' Kajsa was staring at the place where the knight had vanished. 'Surely not the Dark Brotherhood?'

'No, not the Dark Brotherhood. They're of a different time period. The Dark Brotherhood didn't exist then. A lot of things didn't. That's how...that's how next-worldly they are, really. However...they do wage war. With assassins.'

'Like the Penitus Oculatus,' commented J'shana softly.

Alyssa glanced in surprise at the Khajiit. Her own brow furrowed. _If only you knew,_ she thought ruefully.

'You know an awful lot about them,' Morwyn commented, crossing her arms. She paused and frowned. 'In fact, an awful lot about _everything,_ it seems.'

'In life and death I was a time-wanderer, as Kajsa so kindly suggested not too long ago. I know enough. The knights could only have come through the Vortex—and now they've come into the borderland. Obviously in service to this menace as the wraiths are. It seems, though, that they're assisting the harvesting of Dragonborns, and feeding the Well of Souls, just like the wraiths. And they are a lot more difficult to kill than the wraiths.'

Kajsa threw up her hands in disgust. 'Perfect. Now we have immortal men to worry about as well. Immortal men who can actually come at us from anywhere!'

'They're not entirely immortal.' Alyssa looked back towards the entrance. 'But they can be delayed.'

'Then they'll return, in larger numbers,' muttered Morwyn.

'And then what?' J'shana demanded, with a lash of her tail. 'We're defenseless against them. Wraiths are one matter—but knights?'

Alyssa whipped around.

'And we all thought the same about the World-Eater once!' she shouted. 'When we first learned of the destiny that we were meant to wield, did you think that Alduin could be stopped? That he could be defeated?'

There was a silence. Then Morwyn said, 'Alduin, at least, had a weakness. Dragonrend would bring him to his knees.'

'Then he proved to be just as mortal as any one of us...' Kajsa's voice was thoughtful.

'A great power was needed to defeat Alduin,' said Alyssa softly. 'And a great power was needed in that other world—a world that was devoid of magic and full of those knights. I entered their war between them and the assassins. And I realized that there were magics at work, and legends to be fulfilled.

'I found a fascinating creature of great ability in that world when I went there. Unknowingly I had been bound to him—but we resonated. And together, we were strong. We broke our chains. We defied ancient magic—magic as old as Time. Two sources of tremendous power whose spiritual talents harmonized from one another. Immortals can be slain—in life, we did it all the time. And so too can these knights.

'You forget who we are. We are Dragonborns—yes, our power has been stolen, but since when has paths like these been trodden easily? The four of us are thieves—we know how to steal things, and that means we know how to take them back. We have our strengths and we have our weaknesses. But we have survived and I know that it is simply not luck that guides us—Pass cannot be affected by the Daedra, and the Princes have no influence here—but something greater does.

'Magic is tearing Pass apart. Magics that we have not encountered—but magics that we can defeat. A menace is rising, but is this is so different from our own destinies against the dragons? Impossible obstacles, facing us at every turn? We are chosen by Akatosh—we are meant to overcome the impossible. We were born to destroy Gods. These knights seem impossible to defeat, but they will have their weaknesses.

'In the world I passed through the Vortex to, I drew strength from an eagle, and he drew strength from a dragon. In this world, even when Alduin's claws tore at my face and his darkness tainted my heart, I drew strength from the fallen, from my family, from wings of fire. I achieved something impossible. And I sense that all of you, in this room, have done something similar. Done something, become something, which should have been impossible.

'There is a way to defeat the menace, find the Well of Souls and regain our powers. We are no ordinary mortals—we are ones who defy the odds, who challenge them, who drain glory from each and every victory. To find the way out of here is impossible alone—but just like the wraiths and the knights, they return in greater number, and so will we. We did not have that advantage in our Certainties because there was only one of us. But here, we all are Dragonborn. And for once, for the first time, we can become an unrelenting force.'

For a moment, there was quiet.

And then Morwyn slowly nodded.

'For once, Alyssa...I actually think you're making sense.'

'We were born to defy the odds,' J'shana whispered huskily, flicking her tail. 'We were born to survive, and born to do the impossible.'

Kajsa narrowed her eyes. 'I thought Alduin impossible. How wrong I was.'

'We won't be hunted like rabbits,' Morwyn stated. 'I'm sick of running. Only cowards run from battle. Cowards die a thousand times.'

'And warriors die only once,' finished Alyssa.

'But where to begin?' asked J'shana. 'Even with our destinies, we began somewhere. We had an idea of where to start.'

Alyssa frowned thoughtfully.

'Then we'll begin,' she said, 'by finding the girl who knows of the other world.'

* * *

**A/N: Readers of An Explorer's Guide to Skyrim by littlejuliet will know what we're talking about in this chapter! Well, some of it...depends on how well you understand stuff like that. In any case! There will be little references like these further on in the story. I hope that I'm still writing everyone alright, and before you ask, most of the characters save for Alyssa and Tiberia have died before their meant time. You'll find out about their 'deaths' (though I hope Quill's was fairly obvious) in the future chapters. Reviews are love!**


	8. A Matter of Bolts

**A/N: I won't keep you - onward!**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Jon stood outside the mighty walls of the carven temple. The air was cool but he was no longer afraid of its stinging, chilling mists.

He had learned a great deal within the temple. He no longer felt afraid.

He looked around at the runestones that surrounded him. Broken, he had heard they were, powerless without the blood. Kodaav rested at his hip, the blade almost shivering in its anticipation of the battles that were to come.

Jon softly sighed. He closed his eyes, drawing strength of what he was about to do, how he was going to do it. What it meant for the entirety of Pass if he succeeded or failed. There were always consequences to every action. He prayed that he was not wrong in the ones he was about to do, the choices he was going to make.

He began to descend the stony path, stepping away from the temple, and into the thick and swirling fog, his boots sifting through the lifeless snow.

He knew the task he had to do.

* * *

'Oh, damn it. Here they come again.'

Tiberia frowned. 'You don't sound pleased,' she told her.

Kajsa snorted. 'What is there to be pleased about? Being ripped apart by wraiths?'

'We've all been bitten by them. I'm actually quite pleased at the prospect of killing them, over and over again.' She swept the Ebony Sword of the Blaze from its sheath and held it steadily in her hand as the sound of pounding paws became apparent to everyone.

Kajsa was silent, but Tiberia could almost hear the skeptical thoughts that were raging in her skull. Up ahead, J'shana and Alyssa had paused, their eyes scanning the thick fogs.

'There don't seem to be as many this time,' commented Alyssa.

J'shana pulled down the Nightingale Bow, absently fumbling with the fletching of an arrow. Alyssa, mercifully, intervened.

'Let Morwyn have her fun. It's clear she's been itching for something like this for a while.'

Tiberia couldn't resist a small grin as she heard J'shana say incredulously, 'It's hard to believe she survived Alduin at all. Why did they choose a madwoman?'

'Yes, well, that's Morwyn for you. I suppose the Gods in her Certainty got bored.'

Tiberia told herself she _really_ needed to tell Alyssa her first name.

The wraiths were stirring in the mist. Tiberia leveled out the Ebony Sword of the Blaze and waited.

A pair of blue eyes flashed in the mist. _Perfect_.

The wraith jumped out, all snarls and howls. Of course, that got cut off when the Ebony Sword of the Blaze tore through its stomach and it disappeared.

'You know,' Tiberia said aloud to the air, 'you _really_ need to learn the element of surprise!'

As though in answer to her question, two more bounded forward. Tiberia swept to the side and brought the Ebony Sword sweeping through the flanks of the passing wraith, which slid to the ground, whimpering like a wounded wolf with the voice of an old crow. She brought the flat of the blade up as the second wraith leapt at her face, caught it between the jaws and shoved it onto the ground as though it had been paint on the end of her (lethal) paintbrush.

She drove her sword through the ribs of the fallen wraith and turned back to decapitate the other. Almost as soon as she had done that, three more came stalking from the fog.

'I'm not learning how to count!' Tiberia snapped in growing irritation. 'If there are any more, please kindly come and join me now!'

They circled her, and she waited, tensing for the first attack.

The first wraith sprang and Tiberia swept to the side. It thudded onto the ground and in the split second it was off-balanced she cut the legs out from under it. The second and third sprang as one, although they were both at an angle. Tiberia dropped down onto her knees and the two ended up smashing into each other.

They fell to the ground, writhing and waving their legs about and hissing brokenly. Their muzzles were all smashed in, and Tiberia was not surprised. Feeling rather like she was plucking ethereal daisies or something, she walked to each fallen and immobile wraith in turn and slipped her sword into their hearts.

'Feeling better?' Alyssa asked drily.

Tiberia glanced at her. 'This was _not_ challenging,' she stated. 'They were idiots. I met skeevers who had more brains than them.'

'Seems like the menace is getting bored, then,' Kajsa said. 'Like the Gods in your world, so I'm told.'

Tiberia smiled brightly at her. 'It's quite refreshing, being mad. You should try it some time.'

J'shana's laugh quickly turned into a hacking cough. Kajsa glared at her.

'Now that we've _quite_ finished,' Alyssa interjected, 'shall we continue on?'

Tiberia slid the Ebony Sword of the Blaze into its sheath. 'Remind me of our destination.'

'We're finding the girl that the knight mentioned,' Alyssa replied.

Tiberia frowned. 'Not our target—our destination.'

Alyssa was silent.

'What we _really_ need,' Tiberia went on, digging in the subtle hint, 'is some kind of scout.'

Alyssa certainly divined the meaning, Tiberia could tell, and J'shana and Kajsa were exchanging a puzzled glance behind them, but she merely shook her head and walked on.

Tiberia sighed and fell into step beside her. 'Why not?' she inquired, taking care to keep her voice hushed.

Alyssa shot her a frustrated glance. 'There's no need!'

'There is if we're walking blindly through this twisted world—'

'Pass,' she interrupted.

'—whatever it's called,' Tiberia said impatiently. 'And we're all perfect prey for these knights and wraiths.' Sweet Talos, she _still_ didn't understand those damned knights or Alyssa's unusual affinity with them.

'It wouldn't help anyway,' Alyssa said irritably. 'The fog would be too dense.'

'Too dense for mortal eyes, you mean.' _That's the way to go, Tiberia. Work it in deeper._

Alyssa glared at Tiberia and this time she could actually see a bit of it seeping into her eyes. 'I'm _not_ doing it, by Akatosh!' she snapped, her voice a low hiss. 'By the Gods, I'm still trying to figure out why I took my Cloak off in the first place!'

'All right, all right, I get it.' Tiberia put her hands out in front of her, palms facing in. 'No need to bite my head off.' Ah, shit. Tiberia cursed herself and her immensely poor tact.

Alyssa was very quiet for a moment. Then she shook her head and pulled her Cloak tighter around her black-and-cyan robes.

'What is that?'

Tiberia frowned. 'What's what?'

'That...what you're doing with your hands.'

'Oh.' Tiberia glanced down at them, then lowered them. 'What about them?'

Alyssa imitated the movement. Palms facing in. 'What does it mean?'

'You've never had a mage do that to you?' Tiberia said, honestly surprised. _Never? Seriously?_

Alyssa shook her head. 'Normally, they do this.' She flipped her palms the other way around.

'Everyone does that,' Tiberia snorted. All right. Lesson in Tiberia's Wacky World No. 1: 'When someone does what I just did, it basically means, "hey, I'm not going to burn you to a crisp". Hence why mages do it.'

Alyssa frowned. 'Why don't they do it simply the other way?'

'Because if they _did_...' Tiberia held her hands out in front of her, kindled a fireball in each hand and shot it into the fog beyond. 'Well, doesn't give terribly much warning to the person standing in front.'

'Hm.' Alyssa shrugged. 'Well, I'm not much of a spellsword.'

'No, you're a hidden-tiny-swords person instead.'

Alyssa grinned at this. 'My pride and joys,' she declared, tapping her bracers. 'And a little memo from my travels across Time.'

_Which reminds me._ 'How _did_ you get across Time? Did the Elder Scroll lead you wonky in the Time Wound, or something?'

'Actually, it had very, very little to do with an Elder Scroll, in the end,' Alyssa said. 'Rather, to do with something a bit more destructive.'

'Like...?' Tiberia prompted.

Behind them there was a muffled _thud_ and a hissed curse.

Alyssa turned wordlessly and headed back, and Tiberia followed to see that Kajsa was picking herself off the ground.

'Tripped over,' she snapped as though it had been their fault.

'Tripped over _what?_' Tiberia asked. _Your own feet?_ She stomped her boot on the ground to further prove her point. 'It's just dead snow.'

'Sure as hell didn't _feel_ like "just dead snow",' Kajsa retorted, glancing bitterly at the place where she had fallen. 'Something snagged my boot!'

After a second had passed, she suddenly pointed at the area and said, 'So? You still think it's "just dead snow"?'

Tiberia frowned slightly. 'A rock, was it?'

'No...' J'shana crouched down and brushed a bit of the greyish snow away. Tiberia noted that yes, something did seem to be sticking out of it. The Khajiit thief wrapped her talons around its edges and with a mighty tug, pulled it out and accidentally sprayed Kajsa with flecks of grey in the process.

'What the...?' Alyssa sounded perplexed. 'That looks like...'

'A bolt?' J'shana guessed it first. She straightened, still holding it, and Kajsa even forgot her irritation long enough to come close and examine it with the two others.

Tiberia was fascinated. She had never seen a bolt before.

'What's a bolt doing out here?' asked Kajsa with a frown.

'Never mind what is it doing out here—how would you even fire it?' Tiberia took the bolt and puzzled over it. It felt very heavy, the tip made of strong steel, the end large, round and blunt—nothing like an arrow at all, and yet it could only be a ranged weapon.

'Didn't you have crossbows in your Certainty?' Alyssa asked curiously, as she took it.

'You mean like the ones in the Dwemer ruins? If you do, then this is too small to have been slotted in a contraption like that—and it'd be Oblivion to carry around!'

'No, smaller crossbows,' Kajsa explained. 'Like a bow, but a mechanical one. The Dawnguard use them to kill vampires.'

'Not just the Dawnguard,' Alyssa commented absently, as she passed it to Kajsa, who looked for a moment as though she were considering breaking it in half in punishment for tripping her over. 'But if there's a bolt here, then that means someone with a crossbow passed by here recently.'

'Those knights?' Tiberia presumed.

Alyssa shook her head. 'No. The crossbows were beyond their time.'

'And last I remember, wraiths didn't carry crossbows with them,' Kajsa added, handing it back to J'shana.

'So that could have only meant it had come from a Dragonborn who possessed such a weapon,' Alyssa concluded. 'And since the bolt was found here, they must have passed by this place recently.'

'Or long ago,' Kajsa frowned. 'There's no signs that they've been here. This damn snow's too heavy to leave tracks. And there's so much wind that it'd just blow any tracks out.'

'But we must be on the right path,' J'shana reasoned. 'They've passed through here. Who knows? We could have just missed them!' She sounded hopeful.

'Or they could have passed through her a while ago,' Tiberia added. 'Either way, an absence of tracks means that they could have gone anywhere.'

Alyssa's brow was furrowed in thought.

'J'shana,' she said at last. 'Put the bolt back in the ground, exactly how we found it.'

The Khajiit was puzzled. 'Why?'

'Just do it.'

J'shana, though she was a little confused, obeyed, driving it back into the soft grey snow. Tiberia, wondering what this was all about now, glanced at Alyssa to see that she was lining herself up with it, facing the same way as the bolt tail.

'What are you doing?' she asked.

'When I was with the Companions in Whiterun, Aela taught me a few things about hunting. I was a lousy hunter, but I remember what she told me about tracking something.' Alyssa's green eyes didn't stray from her target. 'And I'm presuming that the Dragonborn with the crossbow would have fired the bolt and then got out of this area quite quickly. Most likely simply turning around from the place where they had fired and gone.'

J'shana's ears flicked forward with sudden understanding. 'Of course!' She hurried forward and examined the bolt buried in the ground, and then turned and pointed straight into the fog, her arm in line with the bolt tail. 'So you think they've gone that way?'

'I wouldn't say they'd have directly run straight,' Kajsa frowned, walking forward to stand on the other side of the bolt and pointing in another direction. 'Probably off to the side a little. It's easy to get disorientated in this fog.'

Tiberia felt oddly left out—and it occurred to her that she was the only one who didn't use a bow.

_So what? I can do spells instead. Bows are for pussies._

It occurred to her exactly how ironic that statement was now.

'But we have a possible trail to follow now,' J'shana said, straightening up and slinging her Nightingale Bow over her shoulder. 'Do you think that it's the Dragonborn we're looking for?'

'Possibly,' Alyssa answered. 'But at the moment it's a start.'

She pulled the bolt out of the ground and pocketed it. 'And if the owner is still alive, I think they might want it back.'

'Keep an eye out for any more, then?' Tiberia checked.

'Or a foot,' J'shana teased.

She got a face full of ashy snow in response.

* * *

They were on the move again.

Shouts-at-Sun stifled a small sigh, curling his fingers tighter around the crossbow. The eerie howls shook the air—they still sent shivers of unease rippling down his back.

He had been jerked from his thoughts by those creatures. For a moment, Shouts-at-Sun wondered if they'd find them here, in their little encampment, one very small part of the seemingly endless grey world that surrounded them.

Silently he listened. He thought he could hear the distant sound of drumming pawsteps. Were they growing louder?

Shouts-at-Sun pushed himself slowly and quietly onto his feet, taking care not to disturb Quill, who had finally gone to sleep again. He had been with her long enough to know that she seemed to have very disturbing nightmares, and while he felt concern for her, he sensed it was not his business to intrude on such personal matters.

Then again, if he didn't wake her, the creatures would, if they came here.

He thought he heard them pause. It was growing harder to hear them through the ever-thickening fog, the ever-greying snow. Suppressing a shiver, Shouts-at-Sun held his crossbow a little higher as he suddenly heard a chilling wail sound through the mist.

Then, to his relief, he heard the pawsteps grow fainter.

The relief was short-lived, though. Far, far beyond, Shouts-at-Sun could hear echoes of a fight. The spectral creatures were shrieking and howling up a storm, their voices rising in excitement.

A scream pierced the air—a scream of pain, and one that hadn't come from a ghostly wolf. Shouts-at-Sun felt a bolt of horror flood through him and he took a few steps forward, on the verge of running to help whoever was being injured by the spectral creatures. He heard their wailings and shrieks grow louder, and another scream echo through the air. It was one of the most awful noises Shouts-at-Sun had ever heard in his life.

But before he could take another step, the eerie shrieks of the creatures became high-pitched howls that Shouts-at-Sun could only imagine to be triumph. It went on for what it seemed to be forever. Then silence.

Shouts-at-Sun dipped his head. There could only have been one outcome to that battle if they were shrieking victory wails like that.

'Sun?' a sleepy voice murmured.

'It's all right,' Shouts-at-Sun answered quietly, turning his head slightly, though he already knew that Quill had stirred. 'Go back to sleep.'

He turned and slowly walked back to the tree. Quill glanced at him, and then pushed herself upright, off the ground and into a kneeling position. It was quite clear she wasn't going to go back to sleep.

'The wolves?' she guessed quietly.

Shouts-at-Sun nodded. He sat back down, not bothering to be quiet any more, though he kept the crossbow firmly clutched in his hands. 'I think they killed some other poor hapless wanderer.'

'I could hear them.' Quill hugged her knees to her chest, her blue eyes anxious. 'They sound...' She swallowed. 'They sound horrible. Merciless. How can such heartless creatures exist at all?'

'We could say the same about Alduin,' Shouts-at-Sun admitted softly.

Quill considered this. 'Yes,' she mused softly. 'We could.'

For a moment, they sat in silence, only listening to the distant sounds and murmurs of the wind. It was cool, but it wasn't cold. The spectral creatures weren't approaching them, for now. But Shouts-at-Sun felt a stab of guilt. He kept wondering who could have died. Who had been caught by those beasts.

After a moment, Quill said, 'This must be what prey feels like.'

Shouts-at-Sun nodded solemn agreement. 'The world out to get them. If they let their guard drop for one single moment, then they'll die to animals who have no mercy.'

Quill shivered. 'Is that how...how you felt, when you first learned your destiny, Sun? That you were the prey of the dragons who were hunting you?'

'At first, I was, yes,' Shouts-at-Sun replied honestly. 'But then I just grew into the role. Lokhunnonvul gave me confidence, I think. And I gained experience—that too gave me strength. And, well, dragons don't truly die.'

'They're only lost to Time.' Quill smiled without mirth. 'An advantage of being children of Akatosh.'

'But we defeated Alduin, somehow.'

'Do you think he's destroyed?'

Shouts-at-Sun shook his head. 'I don't think a God can ever truly die. But we've preserved our world, at least. Alduin forsook his duty as World-Eater to dominate Nirn, so I suppose he's getting a good telling-off from his Father. Presuming he really is the firstborn of Akatosh.'

Quill twirled a strand of hair in her fingers. 'As long as I don't have to face him again.' A trace of fear had come into her voice.

Shouts-at-Sun looked her over. She looked so young; too young to have held such a destiny like the one she had been given. No wonder she must be having such violent nightmares.

After a moment, Shouts-at-Sun commented, 'Your name has often intrigued me.'

Quill smiled a little. 'I think it's intrigued a lot of people.'

She relaxed a bit and traced a finger absently over the bird sigil set on her collarbone. 'I was an orphan when I was little,' she began. 'I'm not sure what happened to my parents. I think they were attacked and killed. I survived, though, and a farmer who found me took me in. He raised me like I was his daughter. And for a short time, I was happy.'

'Did he give you the name Quill?' Shouts-at-Sun guessed.

Quill chuckled. 'It began as a nickname,' she said. 'He said he often saw me toddling around his farm with a quill clutched in my hand. But then it became serious when I wouldn't start responding to anything else. It stayed—I've never had the heart to change it, I guess.'

'And yet you turned out to be Dragonborn,' Shouts-at-Sun said. He mused quietly to himself, 'A Dragonborn named Quill...'

She smiled with more humour. 'Not the most heroic name, like Ysgramor or Talos or Tsun, is it?'

'It's good enough. More rustic, in comparison to those fancy Nordic names.' Shouts-at-Sun smiled. 'And it makes you sound quite smart, too. Like you're an author, who reads and writes many books.'

Quill dipped her head bashfully. 'Anything but.'

'Don't worry. I'm not much of a reader, either.'

'Yes, but at least you're a warrior. I'm a thief...'

'And an assassin, I know, but I trust you not to stab me in the back while I'm sleeping.'

Quill glanced at him, her eyes sparkling. 'I'm not _that_ merciless, you know.'

Shouts-at-Sun laughed. 'Says the savage wolf.'

Quill laughed, too. 'Yes, I suppose that'd sound bizarre.'

When a few more moments had passed, Shouts-at-Sun asked her, 'Do you want to get some more sleep, or do you want to take over sentry duty?'

Quill mutely shook her head. 'You can rest.'

That was good. Shouts-at-Sun felt quite tired. He moved over towards the bedroll that Quill had produced out of her bag (and he made a mental note to ask how exactly she had been able to fit it in such a small and slender-looking satchel), but as he lay down, he saw that her eyes were examining his crossbow curiously.

'I've never seen its make before,' she said.

Shouts-at-Sun sat up. 'It's like an automatic bow,' he said. 'But without the need of having to pull back a thin bowstring. It's proven very useful.'

She was more curious than ever. She picked it up, holding it firmly by its handle, and examined how to work it. Shouts-at-Sun, faintly amused, pointed out how to work it.

'It's very powerful,' he said. 'But it takes longer to reload than a bow does. You're holding it nearly right.' Carefully he guided her other hand until she was holding it squarely. Quill was still fascinated, and she lifted it, as though aiming it at some imaginary spectral beast. 'And then, you pull the trigger just here. Don't do it now, though, there isn't—'

There was a metallic click, and Quill was knocked off-balance for a moment as the crossbow jerked in her hands. A bolt shot away through the mist, never to be seen again.

'Oops.' Quill sounded sheepish.

Shouts-at-Sun frowned at her, but he said lightly, 'Yes, _that_ trigger.'

'Sorry.' She quickly handed it back to him. 'I...I'll stick with my sword.'

'Good idea,' Shouts-at-Sun replied with a small and tired smile, as he set about reloading the crossbow.

* * *

A vicious snarl attracted Tiberia's attention back to the fight. Her Ebony Sword of the Blaze once again decapitated the head of a wraith, and she watched as it vanished into the air in a small cloud of blue.

'One hundred and sixty-eight,' she muttered to herself.

The fight was nearly over. Kajsa was sweeping her Ebony Blade into the spine of another wraith and J'shana, stabbing one through the head with an arrow, before smoothly straightening, setting it to the bowstring and firing it an oncoming one.

'Nice shot!' Alyssa praised. While her arm-blade-things were useless, J'shana had loaned her two ebony arrows and she was using them to great effect. She had already killed about three of them, and Tiberia wondered how she had managed to avoid breaking the arrows yet.

'Behind you!' warned Kajsa.

Tiberia twisted around just in time to fend off the jaws of an oncoming wraith. She sliced its head open and dodged a lunge from a second, kicking it hard in where she presumed its ribs would be. It was winded—with a distorted snarl it staggered backwards, and straight into Kajsa's greatsword. With a whimper that was suddenly cut off, it dissipated.

'Hey!' Tiberia protested. 'You did that on purpose!'

'I want to get some kills as well!' Kajsa retorted.

There was a wild shriek that attracted both of their attention. But it had only been Alyssa driving both arrows into either side of a wraith's throat, and jerking it savagely, nearly decapitating it. The wraith vanished into the air.

'These,' she told J'shana, 'are _very_ good arrows!'

'I know, right? Hence why I use them!' J'shana smacked the Nightingale Bow across a wraith's muzzle and flashed Alyssa a feline grin.

'Watch out,' Kajsa warned. 'More are coming!'

Tiberia swung the Ebony Sword of the Blaze through her fingers. She could hear their drumming pawsteps over the ashy snow. The next moment, the first few had leapt, and battle resumed once more.

She impaled a passing wraith's head on the tip of her sword (_It's just getting easier and easier!_ she thought), swept it out, and sliced a mortal wound straight through the body of the next one. It slid to the ground, whimpering, and swiftly Tiberia finished it off and turned back to deal with the rest.

Only thing was, she wasn't standing up anymore.

She hadn't even realized she was flat on her back until she found herself staring into the burning blue eyes of a wraith whose huge ghostly paws were pinning her down to the snow. With a shrieking snarl, it plunged its teeth towards her shoulder—but impulsively Tiberia had seized its throat with her left hand and forced its head up, the teeth snapping inches in front of her face.

'Morwyn!' she heard Alyssa call in alarm.

Tiberia couldn't reply immediately—her teeth were gritted with the effort of keeping the wraith's head away from her throat. It seemed to possess the strength of a bear, even if its body mass was paper-thin. It was rapidly growing more aggressive, her own strength starting to fail. Her other hand was trying to reach for the handle of the Ebony Sword of the Blaze, which had fallen tantalizingly close to her fingertips.

Then suddenly a dark blur shot out of nowhere and struck the wraith directly through the skull, knocking it off her. Before it had hit the ground it had dissipated, a final howl that was mostly total bemusement flickering into silence.

Tiberia was quite surprised for a moment. In that moment, her fingers finally curled around the hilt of her sword and she rolled onto her knees. The wraith was gone, however—and set into the ground was a quivering...

_What the hell?_

'Morwyn, are you all right?'

She heard approaching footsteps. 'We saw the wraith jump onto you and—what the?'

It was clear that J'shana was just as confused as she was.

'I knew it!' Kajsa called nearby. 'I knew that thing was a bolt!'

Tiberia frowned. 'Where the _hell_ did _that_ come from?'

'I...I don't know.' J'shana sounded totally perplexed. 'It...it just sped out from the fog. And killed the wraith before I could load another arrow!'

'But who fired it?' Tiberia demanded. 'You were the one with the bolt in your pocket!'

'Yes, and it's still there, in my pocket.' J'shana drew it out as proof.

Tiberia grabbed it and pulled it out of the ashy snow. She straightened, examining it, and comparing it to J'shana's.

'But it can't have just been luck!' Kajsa said. 'I saw it, too—it just appeared quite unexpectedly.'

'Maybe it was,' Alyssa said, but there was confusion evident in her voice. 'But where did it come from?'

'From a crossbow?' Kajsa suggested sarcastically.

'From the _same_ crossbow, I think you mean,' J'shana stated, glancing back towards the fog where the bolt had rather unexpectedly come to Tiberia's aid. 'The bolts match. Unless it's very strange coincidence where two people armed with crossbows and the same bolts, I think that all we need to do now is follow its flight path and it'll lead us straight to its firer.'

'It's also proof that they're still alive,' Alyssa added.

'Or someone is just wielding the crossbow for fun,' Tiberia said. She kept wondering if it really had been a coincidental shot or it had been misaimed and someone had been trying to kill her while she was in such a vulnerable position. _I mean, who would just randomly fire a bolt and waste valuable ammo?_

Kajsa snorted. 'If there is any "fun" in this place.'

'Come on.' Alyssa was staring through the fog from where the bolt had come slicing through it. 'If we move fast we might catch up to them, wherever they are. Surely the bolt can't have flown for miles across this landscape.'

She sounded a tad doubtful, though.

'And this is the power of the crossbow?' Tiberia asked, handing it to J'shana to pocket.

'So it seems,' the Khajiit said. 'Perhaps Nocturnal is watching over her Nightingales after all.'

'I really doubt it,' Tiberia frowned, falling into step alongside the others. 'This doesn't seem like a place where Princes would have influence. Do you know what I think? Most likely someone just loosed it by complete accident somewhere in the distance...'

Of course, that'd be quite impossible.

Then again, if a Dragonborn had fired it...

* * *

**A/N: Good shot, Quill! You're a natural!**


	9. Daughters of Snow

**A/N: Hi all! Guess what? To those who don't know, I FINISHED THE HUNTRESS! YAAAAAAAAY!**

**And in response to the anonymous guest who I can't contact through a PM: There are going to be stories on said topics in the review. Her 'Dragonborn' adventure will be throughout her Chronicles, and her 'Dragonrider' adventure will be through the first four books of the Of Eagles & Dragons sextet. I'm more than halfway through with the first book, because I can't really seem to get Alyssa's Chronicles started... *here's looking at you, writer's block* and OEAD already surprised me with all its twists and turns.**

**Enough Author's Note. More story!**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

'This is it.'

Morwyn threw J'shana a glance. 'What?'

'If I go on for much longer, I'm going to fall over.' The Khajiit let out a wearisome sigh. 'One of the wraiths bit me in battle. Only for a moment, but I'm so tired my tail is dropping off.'

'Usually exhausts when you get bitten after a while,' Morwyn said. By the sounds of it, Kajsa reckoned she was speaking from past experience. The Dunmer looked around. 'But there isn't anywhere sheltered to rest.'

'We can't exactly go looking for a shelter—and I'm fairly certain that our cave with the word wall is far away.' Alyssa sighed. 'We'll have to rest here. Damn fatigue to Oblivion. I'm tired as well.'

'Shall we set up camp, then?' Kajsa asked.

'Might as well.' J'shana, relieved at Alyssa's words, sank onto the soft, ashy ground with a soft sigh. Kajsa glanced at her Khajiit companion, noting that she did indeed look quite tired. Her bright copper-coloured eyes were visibly drooping.

'All right. Two of us can rest, and two more will guard,' Alyssa decided. 'J'shana can rest first, since she's clearly the most exhausted of us. Who else wants to rest now?'

'How about yourself?' Morwyn stated.

Alyssa hesitated. 'I...I don't mind taking first watch...'

'Nor do we,' Morwyn replied, glancing briefly at Kajsa.

Swallowing her own rising weariness, Kajsa nodded. 'We'll take first watch,' she said, even though inside she felt nothing but reluctant to sit up for however long it took for them to gather their strength.

She stifled a shiver as she sat down on the soft, peaty-feeling grey snow. Ever since that...that wraith had bitten her hard in the battle when she first had met Morwyn and Alyssa, she had been unable to stop a feeling of cold from flooding through her veins. It felt as though ice was constantly pressing against her skin, and Kajsa felt as though her fighting skills were being affected by it as well. It was harder to swing the Ebony Blade, and her Ebony Mail even more burdensome. Even so, the others hadn't noticed, and she didn't need their concern.

Morwyn sat down a short distance away from her. Her dragonbone armour rattled as she settled, her crimson eyes already thoughtful and fixed upon the swirling fog that always surrounded them. Kajsa, for a moment, wondered what she was thinking about—memories from her own world, what Alyssa called a 'Certainty'? Perhaps...

Kajsa firmly clenched her jaw to prevent her teeth chattering and looked out at the mist. She wasn't too sure why it was something the others looked out into so much when they were nostalgic, but perhaps it was because it was the only thing the eye could see for pretty much anywhere.

Behind her, Kajsa heard J'shana's deep, husky breaths. The Khajiit really must have been exhausted, if she had gone to sleep so quickly. Kajsa would have been more than happy to have done the same, and she took some small consolidation that soon it would be her turn for a bit of rest.

In a way, despite her constant fatigue, Kajsa was glad of the Ebony Mail. She felt more fortified and guarded, though by the absence of the poisoning effect it had on her enemies when they drew too near her, Boethiah's enchantment over it didn't work. At least Alyssa was right in saying that the Daedric Princes had no influence here.

Kajsa wasn't entirely certain whether to be glad of it or not. She _did_ feel less burdened without several pairs of Daedric eyes watching her every movement as though she were a pawn on a giant chessboard, but she felt also, less protected by their strong and mysterious enchantments. She didn't relish serving the Princes, and now that her past was dead, a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Of course, another burden had seemingly immediately been pushed on her after Solitude.

Just thinking about it made Kajsa slightly queasy. She kept wondering if Ulfric was worried about her, or if he simply assumed she had died a warrior's death, instead of the totally unexpected one she had had in Solstheim. Miraak had been a powerful warrior, and had struck a death blow to her just as she slew him. She wasn't too sure how long she had borne the wound before succumbing to it, but for some reason, she had been impatient. She hadn't wanted to die on a half-frozen island.

And she couldn't stop remembering the question. It resonated in her mind, even in death.

Kajsa tried to push the murmured words away. The proposal. It had caught her breath, pricked at her heart and made her mind a whirlwind of indecision. It was strange enough that war no longer tore at Skyrim's edges, but what Ulfric had told her afterwards...

Ulfric. Gods-damn it, he had haunted her dreams like some stubborn phantom ever since she had come here. And here he was now, haunting her very thoughts. She could still remember the first time they had seen each other, fleeing for their very lives from the swirling and rising fires in Helgen as Alduin circled overhead, picking off the survivors.

And then they had met again, and again...

And then it had come down to that moment. The last, longest night.

Kajsa softly sighed, pressing her forehead into her hand. Gods...

The words that she had told Ulfric...right before they...

_'I used to not fear death. In the past, I even wished for death to take me – but I am afraid of it now.'_

_ 'And why is that?'_

_ 'You know where your soul will go after death. I do not. One of the drawbacks of being a Daedric Champion.'_

_ 'Do you mean to say – that all of the Daedric Princes you have served...have a claim to your soul?'_

_ 'Not all of them. But enough.'_

Kajsa remembered Alyssa's words. The Princes had no influences here.

She was not in a realm of Oblivion, as she had so strongly believed in.

And yet, she was not in the place where she truly desired to be.

_'It is enough to ensure I will not go to Sovngarde when I die.'_

_ 'But do you wish to?'_

_ 'Yes. More than anything.'_

More than anything...

Gods...had she really been that stupid? So desperate...for power, for revenge? Kajsa pressed her head harder into her hands, closing her eyes, forcing away the memories. All of them. She couldn't think of them here, and she couldn't think of them now. She had told herself that she'd never let herself become broken again. Never.

She was dead. And she was not in Evergloam. She was not in Apocrypha. She was not in the Deadlands. She was not in any of their realms...but in this one, which seemed to be just as much of a nightmare as any of them.

Alyssa was the only one who only seemed to hold a real hope of finding some way out of here. Kajsa had none. She didn't trust Alyssa—there was something about her that she was instinctively shying away from. For some reason, whenever she met those green eyes that always burned bright as stars even in the absence of a dragon's power, her scars had tingled, and she was unable to meet her gaze for long. Something else was always staring back, as though waiting for its moment to come out.

J'shana...Kajsa had been saved by her. The Khajiit was friendly and kind, but she possessed far too much wisdom for one so young. She was younger than her...and yet those eyes unnerved her as well. Kajsa wondered what exactly had been her past. Had she experienced the same kind of pain that she had felt losing Tariq?

And then there was Morwyn. Mad as Sheogorath and proud of it, and an able-bodied fighter. Kajsa remembered her grappling with the wraith that day. Her eyes had been pretty much spitting fire, and Kajsa supposed that it was only natural for a Dunmer to have become a Dragonborn. Their very blood was fire, after all. She seemed to have the most experience being in this place—and had been a willing devout of the Daedra, so she had heard, in life. A true Oblivion Walker...and she, like Alyssa, seemed certain this was not a plane of Oblivion.

_And what am I?_ Kajsa thought.

She remembered the pain of the whip, the torture, the feeling of loss...

_Just a broken woman who is scared._

She drew in a soft, shuddering breath. _I thought that night...that last and longest night...he had helped me. He had made me live. He had given me the chance to forget the terrible past, to move towards the future, to become me, no longer guided by destiny or fate, no longer needed when the world was in peril. But no...what he told me then, what he told me after Solitude...it broke me all over again._

'You okay?'

Kajsa's head snapped upright, her thoughts once again at the back of her mind, and almost angrily she answered, 'Why wouldn't I be?'

Morwyn didn't look in the least offended.

'You seem pretty torn up about something that must have happened to you.' Morwyn shuffled closer. 'I know the feeling.'

Kajsa drily laughed. 'Everyone does, it seems. Being Dragonborn was such a _heavy_ burden...'

'Heavy enough for you to sit like that,' Morwyn answered levelly.

She glanced towards where J'shana and Alyssa slumbered. 'Those two...they were more accepting of their destinies as Dragonborn, but don't think for one moment that they haven't had a troubled past and doubted that they had the strength to save the world.'

'You're sounding like J'shana,' Kajsa accused.

'Well, I haven't exactly been myself since I came here,' Morwyn replied. Frustratedly, she sighed. 'I used to be known for this fire within from Ald'rhun to Markarth to Alinor. Now look at me.' She spread her arms wide. 'I'm a shell. Whatever brought me here...it took my abilities, it took my fire. Who I am—or at least, should be.'

Kajsa hugged her knees to her chest. 'I wish my memories would leave me just as easily as my abilities did.'

'Ah. Nostalgia.' Morwyn narrowed her eyes. 'And by the sounds of it, pretty traumatizing memories, too.'

Kajsa glared at her. 'Why would you care? You've your own to worry about.'

'Yes, I do.' Morwyn looked back out at the fog. 'But I've had some pretty weirdo stuff happen to me when I was alive and breathing fire in Nirn. We all have—and it does hurt to bottle something up for a long time. Alyssa took the plunge and showed me something that troubles her even in death. It does help to talk, and I suppose while the other two are sleeping, we might as well pass the time.'

'So Alyssa does have some kind of secret.' Kajsa threw said woman a dark glance.

'Yes, she does.' Morwyn's voice was firm. 'And when she's ready to show it again, she'll show it. In the meantime, I have noticed your sullenness. I'm guessing that some pretty shitty stuff happened when you lived.'

Kajsa sighed. 'You would have no idea.'

'Oh, yes I would.' Morwyn's voice was resigned.

'How so?'

'Oh, you want me to start?' Morwyn drily laughed. 'Where to begin? With my family? A mother who birthed me out of political necessity? Or a sister who went batshit at me the moment we were reunited in the Embassy.'

'You had a sister?' Kajsa asked.

'Two, actually. Neva and Avalon.'

'Which was the sister who went "batshit"?'

'Oh yeah, that was Neva.' Morwyn's eyes flashed like old embers coming back to life.

Kajsa loosened a little. 'I'm guessing you had disagreements.'

'Aye. That we did.' Morwyn muttered something in Dunmeris—Kajsa caught the words _n'wah_ and _s'wit_ several times—before falling back into the common tongue. 'Right up to the very end, naturally.'

'And the "very end" would be when you died?'

'Aye,' affirmed Morwyn. 'In the largest and bloodiest battle Skyrim will ever remember.'

Kajsa leaned back on one hand. 'I'm guessing it wasn't Alduin.'

'Oblivion, no. Alduin was seven years dead by the time I was.' She drily laughed. 'And by the last person I expected to kill me.'

'Who?'

Morwyn softly sighed. 'It's a _really_ long story.'

'All right.' Kajsa resumed staring gloomily at the mist. 'But don't think I'm going to give something for nothing.'

Morwyn chuckled. 'I wasn't asking you to tell me what's going on in your head. That's up to you, naturally. But here, we're all friends, so we might as well say what's buggering us. You did, after all, tell us where the Well of Souls was.'

Kajsa frowned. 'I don't even know how you heard of it.'

'If you must know, I was told something. I daresay the Well of Souls is the anchor that's holding us here. Those wraiths feed off the Well and as a result they're pretty much immortal.' Morwyn's eyes clouded as though she was remembering something, but they cleared just as quickly. 'This is definitely one of the weirdest things I've done. As though imitating a Prince wasn't bad enough.'

'You did _what?_' Kajsa said incredulously.

Morwyn grinned. 'It was the only way to make Neva talk. And it was fairly easy. Sheogorath has _such_ a distinctive accent.'

Kajsa stared blankly at her.

'Which reminds me—he _still_ owes me a strawberry torte.'

'And that's what you've been thinking about all this time?' Kajsa said to her. 'A Prince...owing you a strawberry torte?' The words sounded very stupid on her tongue.

'Partly,' Morwyn replied. 'Then I think about the usual things. Who I left behind, who I miss, who I hate and who I love...' She shot a sideways glance at Kajsa and asked suddenly, 'Did anyone matter to you in your world? Who you're missing, or hating?'

Kajsa's breath caught in her throat. She fought to hide the flash of emotion she sure had sparked in her eyes, and she glanced firmly at the ground, refusing to meet Morwyn's eyes. 'It's none of your business.'

'Oh, come on. We're all Dragonborn here. We all come from the same tear in Time, don't we? It's obvious that whoever's on your mind is troubling you, so why not say and get him or her out of it?' Morwyn's eyes narrowed. 'It's a him, isn't it, though?'

'Look, I'd rather not talk about it...'

'Everyone has their problems. And surely your lover can't be much worse than mine.'

Kajsa shot Morwyn a sideways glance. 'So who was it, then?'

'Ha!' Morwyn laughed. 'Something for nothing, indeed!'

Kajsa's eyes narrowed. 'You seem to be avoiding answering the question.'

'Yeah, well...where's the fun in telling you outright?' Morwyn smiled a little. 'And you don't have to give names, you know. Just a description.'

Kajsa breathed out long and hard. 'Well...he's...he's a Nord.'

'I am _not_ surprised.'

'You don't sound it. Was your lover a Nord?'

'Kajsa, I knew one hell of a lot of Nords. I was Harbinger of the Companions.'

'Yes, so was I. I knew a few Nords as well.' Kajsa picked absently at the ground as she spoke. 'And he's...he was a true Nord. Very loyal to his homeland.'

'Aren't all?'

'But he was particularly devoted to his cause.'

'And what was his cause?'

Kajsa paused. 'Well...he was a warrior,' she said carefully. For some reason, she felt very reluctant to say his name aloud. 'At first, I...well, _we_ didn't understand each other. But...it grew better, I think. Slowly. I started trusting him more. In fact, we...well, we grew quite close. But...' She fell silent. 'I don't really know what to think of him now. I think it's because I never got to say farewell. I left him and I was full of indecision and...and a lot of other things.'

She was aware her voice had trembled just slightly. The coldness, which had lingered at the back of her mind, now returned, shaking through her blood. She tried to stifle the shiver, but even she admitted it was poorly concealed.

Morwyn, who had become unusually thoughtful, now gave Kajsa a concerned look. 'You're still quite cold.'

'Tell me something I don't know,' Kajsa answered, rubbing her arms in a vain attempt to shake away those icy pangs.

Morwyn laughed quietly. 'I'm amazed you still have that whip of a tongue when you look as grey as ash.'

'Yes, well, it's been one of my main lines of defenses,' Kajsa said drily.

'Oh, hasn't it been for all of us.' Morwyn leaned back on her arms. Her dragonbone armour rattled around her, and Kajsa's eyes fell on the runes that were scratched into the pale bone.

'Did you carve those in yourself?' she asked, intrigued.

Morywn glanced vaguely at her armour. 'Yes.'

'What do they say?'

'The Dragonborn prophecy.'

Kajsa noted the obvious Oblivion symbol numerous times over the armour. 'You really must have been brought up in the ways of Daedra,' she mused quietly.

'Oh, yes. It was impossible for me _not_ to have had such close ties.'

'Of course,' Kajsa murmured. 'I should have realized. You being Dunmer...'

Morwyn shot her an amused glance. 'Excuse me?'

'Well...you are Dunmer, aren't you?' Kajsa immediately internally kicked herself.

Morwyn stiffened. 'What? I'm a _what?_' That son of a _bitch—_the Talking Grapefruit from Passwall lied to me!'

Kajsa, despite herself, laughed.

'For my family,' Morwyn explained more sanely, 'the Daedra were a...well, they were there, often. My family was power-hungry. It was natural for me to learn Daedric, the rituals...not to mention that a certain madgod claimed me when I was born. Just like Boethiah claimed Neva, and Meridia, Avalon.'

'You mean...you were doomed to go to the Shivering Isles before you even realized your destiny?' Kajsa exclaimed, disbelieving. 'You never had a choice?'

'Excuse me?' Morwyn snorted. 'Look—I served a lot of Princes in my life, and not just Sheogorath by my own nature. I can clearly remembering telling certain somebodies about certain Princes and their own misjudged perceptions finally made clear. I tell you, they were pretty ignorant. And I'm guessing that you must be, too. And don't look like that, Kajsa, I'm not saying it because you're a Nord,' she added, as Kajsa opened her mouth to protest angrily. She raised a hand levelly. 'I'm saying that because you bear two artifacts from Boethiah and Mephala, and I don't have to guess much farther to know that you've served a lot of Princes.'

Kajsa said nothing, just looked away.

'Nords,' Morwyn went on, 'value honour and prowess more than anything else. Do you value honour, Kajsa?'

The question took her by surprise. 'I...I can't say that...that I have a lot of it,' Kajsa said at last, feeling slightly unsettled. 'I mean, yes, I'm Dragonborn, yes, I killed Alduin and stood against the dragons. I was Harbinger of the Companions and Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild...but often I feel as though I've let the Daedra control me far too much. I want my life to be my own—ungoverned by fate and destiny and these greater beings—' a note of frustration crept into her voice '—who had something insane planned for me in the very end. They chose a thief and an assassin and a _wolf_ to kill the World-Eater. The Daedra laid claim to my soul even though Tsun told me I'd return to Sovngarde...'

She broke off.

And she saw that Morwyn's eyebrows were raised.

'Ah,' said the Dunmer. Kajsa could almost hear her thinking, _So _that's_ what this is about, then..._

'You,' said Morwyn, 'were meant to go to a few planes of Oblivion when you died, correct?'

Kajsa swallowed. 'I was a Nightingale. You were, too. But I sold my soul to so many others. I tried to renounce, but...'

'It's very hard to back out of a contract set by a Daedra,' frowned Morwyn. 'You'll only make them angry, and to anger a Prince is unwise. However, even though you don't believe yourself to have a clear understanding of honour, I can tell that you wanted the glories of Sovngarde, just like any true Nord.'

Kajsa laughed drily. 'I was anything but a true Nord,' she said. 'I'm a halfblood.'

Morwyn's eyebrows raised with surprise—more so than Kajsa felt she had expected. Then, the crimson eyes became thoughtful slits and Morwyn said thoughtfully, 'So you're half-Nord, then.'

'I let others believe I'm a Nord,' Kajsa muttered. 'It's easier that way.'

Morwyn gave a very wry smile.

'And you wanted Sovngarde, not the planes.'

'Yes,' Kajsa admitted. 'Very much so. But I didn't have much choice.'

Morwyn laughed quietly. 'Kajsa Red-Blade, there is _always_ a choice. Even this Dunmer champion, daughter of both Aedra and Daedra, champion of way too many damn Princes and Nightingale of Nocturnal, found her way to the land of heroes in the end.'

'How?' Kajsa whispered longingly. 'How did you do it?'

'Because I refused to settle for anything less,' Morwyn answered. 'And because...well...Sheogorath let me, in the end. I think I'd have suited that place much more so than the Isles.'

They heard stirring behind them. Kajsa was reminded of her tiredness, and looked forward to getting a bit of rest herself.

'And for what it's worth,' she heard Morwyn say quietly beside her as they rose and stretched, 'I'm half-Nord, too.'

* * *

_I was walking through the fog. Above the sky was the dull grey it usually was, but it felt grimmer than before, darker, as though night was descending. Restless clouds still tossed themselves above me, but the mist was stinging and cold, biting at my exposed scales and making me shiver. My blood was colder than it had ever been._

_ Then, from the swirling mist, a strange temple rose from the ashes, encased within a shell of stone. I paused in astonishment, staring at it. It rose above the fog. Indeed, it didn't seem as though it was able to touch it. Outlined clearly against the sky, a faded kind of brown like old sunbaked earth, the colour I remembered seeing on the masonry of old Nordic crypts, was a temple, but unlike anything I had seen before. Its exterior vaguely reminded me of Skuldafn—the outer walls were sketched in unfathomable ruins, and strange stones rose from the earth, untouched by the dead snow._

_ I was naturally drawn to it in sheer curiosity. But before I had been able to take a few steps closer towards it, I heard a voice whispering, so faintly in my head I would have missed it if this place had not been so silent._

_ '_Zaanahstkrein..._'_

_ I stiffened, whirling my head around. 'Who's there?' I demanded._

_ '_Zaanahstkrein..._' whimpered the voice. It was barely a whisper, so faint, so voiceless that I could not tell if I recognized the speaker or not. '_Stin zu...zu'u ahst hin aaz._'_

_ I hesitated. Though I could not understand the words like I could before...I sensed the pleading behind the softly-uttered words._

_ And for a moment, disbelief gripped me._

_ 'Lokhunnonvul?'_

_ '_Zaanahstkrein,_' the voice rasped. '_Faal onikaan wah viik zu dur, nok ko faal dwiirok-qethsegol. Yah faal Dovahkiin wo kod Kodaav, wo do faal kruziikstrun. Siiv faal Dovahkiinne, ahrk kosvahlok faal Viinggeseyol._'_

_ 'Lokhunnonvul,' I whispered. 'If it is truly you...please, speak in the common tongue. I know you can...I can't understand...'_

_ '_Ko niid tiid, hio fen,_' the voice responded faintly. '_Yah...kruziikstrun._' It was rapidly becoming fainter, becoming weaker—I barely heard its last words. '_Kosvahlok...faal...Viinggeseyol...Zaanahstkrein... _'_

Shouts-at-Sun jerked awake, sitting up as though he had been struck by an arrow, so suddenly that his crossbow went flying off his lap and with a muffled _crunch_ onto the surrounding snow. Quill jumped at the sudden sound and jerked around, her eyes wide with concern and alarm.

'Sun! Are you all right?'

Shouts-at-Sun realized that he was breathing heavily, as though he had been running.

'I...I don't know,' he admitted.

Quill's brow creased a little. 'You don't look all right. You look as though you've forgotten your tail!'

'Yes...well...' Even though he knew her words were meant to be teasing, Shouts-at-Sun carefully curled his tail around his legs, just to make sure that it was still there. He rubbed his hand along his forehead, feeling the ridges where his horns were protruding through his scaly exterior.

His fingers came away lightly beaded with cold sweat.

'Did you have a nightmare?' Quill asked quietly, shuffling nearer to him.

Shouts-at-Sun shrugged his uncertainty. 'It felt like a nightmare,' he admitted softly. 'But...but I'm sure it wasn't. It...it was too real. And there wasn't enough horror to be involved for it.'

'But you're covered in cold sweat, Sun. You're still shaking.' Gently, she touched his arm, concern flashing in her bright blue eyes like little fish in a still pond. 'It must have been quite a dream if it wasn't a nightmare.'

Shouts-at-Sun glanced absently at his surroundings. Same as always—their camp hadn't shifted from its place beneath the tall, black and seemingly lifeless tree. He saw his crossbow lying near his knee and quickly picked it up again, shaking a few grey snowflakes off its steel-rimmed edges and resting it over his folded legs.

'Would you believe me,' he said, 'if I told you that I saw a strange structure in my dream?'

Quill blinked, puzzled. 'Structure?'

'It was built out of that old stone you'd find forming the stonework of ancient Nordic crypts back home,' Shouts-at-Sun explained. 'Except...carved up with runes, all kinds of them, ones I don't recognize. It was perched upon a mound of dirt. The cold fog and dead snow wasn't on it, though. It was as though it was protected.'

Quill's eyes widened with wonder. 'What was it?'

'I don't know.' Shouts-at-Sun shrugged his shoulders in defeat. 'But as I was looking at it, a strange voice seemed to whisper from the mist at me. It kept calling me "Zaanahstkrein".' He pronounced the word, to his surprise, with more difficulty than he had ever encountered before. 'I know I've been called it before,' he said. 'I'm sure it means something—it's what Lokhunnonvul used to call me, but honestly, I can't remember what it means.'

Quill shook her head. 'Nor do I. But did it say anything?'

'Yes. It said a lot—but it was all in Draconic.' Shouts-at-Sun sighed. 'I wish it had spoken in Tamrielic. I would have understood its message, then. I think it was a message, at least, or maybe a warning. There was a kind of foreboding tone to its voice as it was speaking to me, though it was hard to tell. It was very faint, as though weak. But I'm sure it was coming from inside that...well, I can only call it a temple. It reminded me a bit of Labyrinthian.'

Quill softly chuckled, though ruefully. 'Everything here reminds me of Labyrinthian,' she said. 'Those spectral dogs, and now the temple. Even this place...as gloomy as the lands that surrounded that old structure, just as menacing outside as it was inside.'

Shouts-at-Sun puzzled over the words.

'Even though it was spoken in another language,' he said, 'I can remember all its words very clearly.' Quietly he recited them, aware that he stumbled and slipped a few times over the pronunciations which seemed now as foreign to him as the reasons behind why Sheogorath was mad, and Quill listened.

'Do any words spark recognition?' Shouts-at-Sun asked hopefully.

Quill shook her head. 'None. I couldn't speak a single word of Draconic until I absorbed my first dragon soul, and was taught by the Greybeards.'

'It seems all Dragonborns are, then,' Shouts-at-Sun commented, though he was yet to meet another. Vaguely, he wondered if there _were_ others. Maybe he would find out later. 'But two words in particular are sticking in my head more than the others,' he went on. ' "Kruziikstrun", and "Kodaav". It's as though whoever passed on the message was trying to teach me something very important in the space of a few seconds.'

'Do you think it was your...your friend?' Quill hesitated. 'I...can't remember his name.'

'Lokhunnonvul,' Shouts-at-Sun provided. 'And...well, I hope it was him. At the same time, I hope it _wasn't_ him. If he's trapped in this place as well...he's completely dragon, and I was fortunate enough to be in the body of a mortal, at least. This place might have affected him more than me if he did come.'

The thought of his wise friend helpless and weak and frightened made Shouts-at-Sun just as scared. A shiver ran down his spine, prickling the scales on his tail.

'But I don't understand who else would know the name "Zaanahstkrein",' Shouts-at-Sun added, half-arguing with himself. 'So it could only have been him.'

He thought back to his dream. 'And the doorway to that temple...it was open and quite large. I think a dragon must have made that place. Maybe Lokhunnonvul built it and is hiding from the phantoms inside it. Maybe they're draining his strength. Maybe we have to find him.'

'And maybe we have to wait for the meaning to become a little clearer,' Quill suggested quietly.

Shouts-at-Sun flicked his tail angrily. 'But we're getting nowhere sitting here doing nothing but hiding from the beasts!' he snapped, losing his patience. 'We're warriors—we should be finding the source of our problems, not simply _dealing_ with them!'

Quill flinched, and for a moment, Shouts-at-Sun felt guilt overcome him. He hadn't meant to snap...he opened his mouth to apologize, but Quill cut across him.

'We struggled when we wandered blindly through the fog!' she snapped. 'We're weak enough, and a few more bites from those phantoms and blows from the swords of those—those _knights_, might be enough to kill us!'

A memory flashed in both of their minds. Shouts-at-Sun remembered the terrible scream and the spectral wolves' howls of triumph, followed by a terrible...terrible silence.

'But I don't understand,' Shouts-at-Sun murmured, 'how they can kill us when we're already dead.'

Quill hugged her knees into her chest, looking nervous. 'Nor do I. And I don't think I want to find out.'

Quietly, Shouts-at-Sun rested a hand on her shoulder. She jumped under his touch, and then relaxed a little.

'I'm sorry for snapping,' he said, a little sheepishly.

Quill flashed him a tiny smile. 'That's all right. I'd probably have snapped, too...'

'But you have worse dreams than I,' Shouts-at-Sun said, frowning as he lowered his hand from her shoulder. He remembered the times when he had been awake, guarding their little camp, and he had heard her fretfully stirring, whimpering and whispering and gasping in her sleep. Several times she had awoken with barely-muffled screams that he could have only described as terror.

Quill's face paled slightly. Stiffly she nodded. 'Yes. I do.'

'You never talk about them.'

'I don't feel like I should. They're not your concern.'

'They are, Quill. We're in this together now, no matter what happens.'

She threw him another glance. Shouts-at-Sun couldn't help marveling how bright those eyes of hers were.

'I...I guess.' She swallowed and uncoiled herself, just a little, though she already seemed to possess a haunted look. 'It's one of the reasons I used to travel alone in my world,' she said suddenly. 'My nightmares...they disturbed my travelling companions.'

Shouts-at-Sun smiled a little. 'They don't disturb me as much. Perhaps it's because we share the same blood...in a way?'

Quill glanced at him, her face losing a little of that haunted expression. 'That is true,' she said at last, and then laughed. 'Though I never dreamed my brother would have horns and a tail—I was taught to kill things that possessed those!'

Shouts-at-Sun grinned. 'As was I. However, I taught myself to kill things that possessed horns and tails _and_ wings—if I had remained with the first two, I would have been forced to kill a lot of my kinsfolk.' He leaned back a little. 'So...these nightmares, of yours? I'm guessing that they're about Alduin.'

Quill nodded.

'But they're about other things as well,' she admitted, her voice very soft. 'People...people I left behind. And who left me.'

Memory and sadness glowed in her eyes. 'I never even—'

Her face suddenly drained of blood and she screamed, '_Sun!_'

Shouts-at-Sun was about to ask what had suddenly made her so frightened and alarmed, when he heard the crunching footsteps, rushing over the ground. He whipped around in time to see a tall, armoured man wearing a cuirass emblazoned with a red cross leap from the fog, his sword aimed towards Quill.

She was scrambling to pull her sword out in time. The knight's blade descended—

Shouts-at-Sun threw herself in its path, and with both his hands, grasped his foe's wrist and pushed the killing blow away. He heard Quill cry out. Then there was a smashing pain across his face as a powerful gauntleted fist struck him in a fierce counter, and everything went black.

* * *

**A/N: I'm nasty, aren't I?**

**Thanks MadameHyde for helping me with Morwyn in this chappy. I don't know how you make that awesome personality with Ty! Yes, so the plot has thickened...and as for the Draconic part, it'll all be made clear in the upcoming chapters, when the mysterious Temple is made clear. I'm so impatient to get to the end of this! I have so much PLANNED! Ah well, I suppose I'll have to wait too :( so what did you think of this chapter, lovely readers?**


	10. Sisters of the Eternal War

**A/N: Here we are again! In response to the uncontactable reviewer: it's totally unscheduled when my next Alyssa stories may be out, so the answer is most likely within a few months. I don't have a set date, I'm afraid, as I'm totally terrible with deadlines. But what I can promise you is that O.E.A.D might (and note I said MIGHT) be around 400,000 words long (it's definitely over 280,000 so far). So it'll be very long and action-packed.**

**In the meantime, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

Alyssa didn't sleep.

She lay down, and she lay on the soft ground, her arms tucked beneath her head so she didn't suck in the greying snow, and she slowed her breathing into a steady and rhythmic pattern, but she didn't sleep.

Beside her, J'shana was already fast asleep, her gentle breaths billowing in the air. The Khajiit was exhausted—Alyssa wondered why she didn't want to rest.

She wasn't used to it, she supposed. It felt as though she had spent eternity in the Currents. She wanted more than anything to be back there, and Alyssa was very well aware of these kinds of desires, mad and hopeless but raged on within her anyway, like a wild beast seeking to be released.

She remembered that coming down to the ground had been the only way to solve these mad desires to touch the sky again. Sovngarde had left her, in short, traumatized. To see her family so close again, and then to have them torn away from her, to be thrown back into that cold and cruel world of the living...

_And now it is like that all over again._ Softly Alyssa sighed, nudging her knees closer into her chest, trying to draw warmth into her lightly shivering body. _I'm desperate to get back to my home, the Currents, and especially to who I left behind up there._ She felt reluctant to say their names aloud. She refused to speak the names of the knights, and she refused to speak the names of the Order, too. Even mentally, it felt dangerous.

_All of us should know that words have power._

Behind her, she could hear the gentle rumble of voices. Kajsa and Morwyn were talking. Alyssa wondered if Morwyn was comforting Kajsa—she had noticed the Nord had been very odd since she had met them, since she had been bitten by that wraith. Moodier and more forlorn than anyone else, though perhaps it was just her own uncertainty in this place. Still adjusting to being around so many Dragonborns.

_To be honest, I didn't expect this, either. And I have been going through a _lot_ in death._

Smiling a little, Alyssa remembered a few memories from the world she had left behind. She still visited it sometimes. A part of her reward for a lifetime of service upholding her legacy, eternity of flight beneath her Father's wing. She drew the Cloak more securely around her body. It was her only connection of her beloved Akatosh here, and she liked to believe that he was still watching over her, just as he had watched over her in life.

_Protected me. Guided me. Saved me._ Alyssa placed a hand on her collarbone. It was empty of any necklace now, and she knew that her amulet, the heirloom of the now-ancient Laryssin family, was in good hands. Like the Amulet of Kings, it could only be passed through the bloodlines, its true potential brought out when it resonated with its wearer, when blood sang with fire.

_Something that all of us are naturally good at._ Alyssa smiled a little ruefully.

She had been mulling over the memories of home, when she had been just a little girl, a child naïve and innocent to the natures of the world—until she left her Estate for the first time and met Vex. That had been the best day of her life. But in her household she had grown up with the wisdom of her grandfather, the prowess of her father and the endurance of her sister. She had been the littlest, the hatchling, the baby wyrm who needed the guidance of the elders. Zara, at least, had enjoyed saying that part of it.

_And now, here I am,_ Alyssa thought to herself. _With three other Dragonborns. And here, I am the elder dragon. The one who possesses the knowledge, what needs to be shared to my kin in order for them to survive._

She wondered who the others would be.

Morwyn...Morwyn could only have been equivalent to her sister. Alyssa smiled warmly. Yes, she was undeniably frustrating at times. Yes, she was also undeniably and sometimes frustratingly sarcastic at times as well. But deep within, beneath her blue-grey skin, Alyssa knew she held great knowledge of things, too. Knowledge she just didn't fling about her like a weapon—enough to keep her alive and those around her alive, too, but not to the extent that it bothered those around her, though it was quite clear that Kajsa and J'shana weren't used to Morwyn's...rather erratic temperament.

J'shana was the youngest, but she possessed the quiet wisdom and courage of her father. Kanding Laryssin would have been proud to know that his daughter walked with one of the Tygra, just as long ago his ancestor did with J'shana's ancestor. Alyssa knew the family legend well, the tales of Tacita and her exploits in Cyrodiil, her dealings with Nocturnal and the ultimate forging of the Thieves Guild and the Trinity of the Empress of Murk. She had dwelled in the Daedra in her life and stalked the silence of Evergloam in death, but Alyssa had seen the simple contentment there and knew that Tacita was as much of an Oblivion Walker as Morwyn was—but her wisdom was treasured by her family, and she could almost see it all over again in J'shana's eyes. Alyssa was not surprised to learn that J'shana Tygra—her very name!—was the subject in the rekindled twinblood prophecy.

And Kajsa...well, Zara could be just as moody on some days, Alyssa supposed. But Kajsa seemed to feel the most uncomfortable in this place. Alyssa was concerned, but she didn't voice these thoughts aloud. She knew very well how picky pride was and guessed it was the reason Kajsa disliked accepting help.

_Kajsa is an interesting puzzle, I must admit,_ Alyssa thought to herself. _Maybe one day I'll figure her out._ She paused at her words. _Well...maybe soon, or later, I'll figure her out._ Incorrect to use measurements of time in a timeless place like Pass.

She sighed, guessing that she might as well try and get some sleep. She curled into a tighter ball and closed her eyes, wondering if she'd be relieved of any nightmares this time. Gradually her breathing deepened, and Alyssa felt her racing mind begin to slow down.

And she wasn't entirely sure she was dreaming (though she realized that she must have been) when she heard an all-too-familiar voice suddenly resound near her.

'Alyssa.'

She flipped around as though she had realized Alduin was behind her—and by the Gods, it felt that way. Alyssa stiffened when she saw who was standing only feet away from her. Her heart pounded louder, so loudly that it nearly drowned out her stammered and incoherent whisper.

But he heard it.

_Holy shit. He's here, too._ Alyssa struggled to get to her feet.

'What are you doing here?' she demanded softly.

He didn't answer. She could see his eyes, gleaming bright golden beneath the rim of his hood.

Then, he said, 'Look after them, Alyssa. They're in need of you.'

Alyssa stared blankly. 'I...don't understand.'

'You don't have to. We didn't understand when we were reunited.' His eyes glowed with memory. 'Some things are meant to be _vanmidoraan_, incomprehensible.'

Gods-damn it, it was him. Only one man would think of throwing her own words back at her.

'Don't tell me they've chained you here as well,' Alyssa breathed.

He shook his head (mercifully). 'It's a miracle that we're able to make contact,' he said. 'But I can't do this for long. I'm only able to do this through the broken connection we used to have. Sometimes I can still claw at the pieces.'

'I'm not surprised,' Alyssa murmured softly. 'But please, get out. I shudder to think what might happen to you.'

'It's fine. They can't find me. I'm not the ilk they're expecting.' His eyes brightened—a sure sign his soul was his own. 'But they're still looking for you, Alyssa. Be careful—and look after the others.'

'Kajsa and Morwyn and J'shana?'

'The others. There are more you need to find. Who you're finding.' There was sadness in his eyes. 'And I miss you, Alyssa. Please, come back to the skies when you can. We have so many more places to explore together.'

There was the plea in his voice, and Alyssa's heart wrenched.

'I want to leave now,' she whispered. 'But I'm grounded.'

'Then find your wings of fire, Alyssa—and _seek the Dragonborns_.'

'Alyssa!'

Alyssa's eyes snapped open—the image of him vanished to be replaced with the sight of ashy snow inches away from her nose. She spun onto her back—a furry hand was on her shoulder, and a pair of concerned copper eyes appeared just above hers.

'Are you all right?' J'shana sounded concerned.

She muttered something _vanmidoraan_ and levied herself into a sitting position.

_Shit._ Alyssa realized what she had just said. _Vanmidoraan. Incomprehensible._ She looked immediately towards the place where she had seen him. _He told me—and I remembered. I'm amazed he did!_

'I think so,' she said carefully, but her heart was wrenching at the knowledge it had merely been a dream. He had been nothing more than an illusion. Though she was relieved he was not bound here...she felt lonelier than she had felt in a long time.

'I'm sorry to wake you,' J'shana murmured, 'but it is time for us to take our duties. Morwyn and Kajsa are exhausted.'

_I'm not surprised._ Alyssa saw that they were standing up and stretching. Morwyn said something to Kajsa, who looked quite stunned for a moment. What Morwyn had told her, Alyssa wasn't sure, but she decided to leave between them.

'At least the wraiths didn't find us while we slept,' J'shana said, sounding relieved. 'I thought that the cave with the word wall was our only sanctuary.'

'We can find sanctuary within number,' Alyssa replied. _And that has been one of our greatest weaknesses, one that we all share,_ she thought. _We're all used to being the single Dragonborn of our times—and so we don't know how to come together when multiple Dragonborns are in the same vicinity as others._

She remembered his words.

_Seek the Dragonborns._

_Seek—_

Alyssa stiffened.

_Yah. Seek._

'Morwyn!'

Morwyn spun around. 'I'm alive!' she called back.

'So I see—but I've just realized some more of your message!'

Morwyn's eyes brightened and she hurried over. 'What part?'

'The Dragonborns. Your dream told you to _yah faal Dovahkiinne_. I should have realized instantly!' Alyssa actually smacked her forehead. 'It means to seek, Morwyn! It wanted us to seek the Dragonborns—it knew that we could become stronger in number!'

While J'shana and Kajsa both looked equally perplexed, Morwyn's face cleared.

'_Yah faal Dovahkiinne_,' she recited. '_Kosvahlok faal Yuvon Dovah; Siiv faal Vostrunmahsille_.'

She hadn't forgotten. Nor had Alyssa.

'But how did you know this now?' Morwyn asked in puzzlement. 'Was it a stroke of inspiration or what?'

'I had a dream,' Alyssa replied. _No need to say who exactly gave me the answer—though he was the _last_ person I expected to give me a solution!_ 'And while _kosvahlok_ is still _vanmidoraan_—' _Damn_, it felt good to include Draconic in normal speech again! '—we know that whoever passed that message to you knew that we'd be stronger as a group, as a force. And it wanted us to find more. We're meant to rally an army against these creatures and attack them at their heart—the _Vostrunmahsille_. The Well of Souls.'

Morwyn was silent for a few seconds. Then she smiled.

'Finally, something that makes _sense_ in this Gods-forsaken landscape!'

'Alyssa,' said J'shana, slightly uncertainly. 'Are you sure?'

'Positive,' Alyssa replied. _And his arrival can't be entirely coincidental, either,_ she added mentally to herself. She had completely forgotten to ask him about the girl they were looking for. Forgotten to tell him about the knights...would he have known? Surely. It wasn't like him to keep many secrets, and especially not from her. They had known each other for far too long (and technically, hadn't met yet) to hold back from one another now.

Kajsa shot Morwyn a glance. 'Message?' she repeated.

'It's how we knew what the _Vostrunmahsille_ was when you first told us about it,' the Dunmer replied.

'Oh.'

Kajsa glanced at Alyssa, frowning a little. 'Are we still permitted to sleep?' she asked. 'Or is this latest discovery going to send us gallivanting off to "seek the Dragonborns"?' She could be as sarcastic as hell sometimes, Alyssa reflected—rather like a certain man in white robes.

'We can gallivant off after you rest,' Alyssa replied.

Relief flashed briefly across Kajsa's face. She and Morwyn settled down and Alyssa and J'shana sat down near them to do their part.

But Alyssa's thoughts were preoccupied once more. The memories of the other world came cascading down with his arrival in her dream, and though she kept one ear out for the sound of approaching predators and knights (and she _really_ was not in the mood to deal with them right now), her mind was elsewhere. It was almost as though she were riding the Currents again...

His voice resonated in her mind.

_'The eagle is a symbol of the Assassin. They help us...in a subtle way. Revealing lookout points and reminding us of faith.'_ Indeed. A unique kind of Assassin.

_'Odd. The symbol for the thief...at least, in my world...is a nightingale. At least, for a certain few, we bear that title.'_

_ 'What does a nightingale do to help a thief? All they do is chirrup and sing. Don't tell me you have something like Nightingale Vision...'_

_ 'Ha ha ha. No. The Nightingales are an anonymous splinter of the Thieves Guild, and make up the Trinity of Nocturnal, our dark patron and mistress of the murk and of shadow. Basically, she's a Daedric prince, which I haven't told you about, so please don't ask, I will tell you more on what they are later.'_

_ 'And let me guess...you are one of the Trinity?'_

_ 'Yes. I am a Nightingale. I'm Nocturnal's Agent of Stealth. In my world, I can call on the shadows to wrap around me and conceal me entirely from danger. I don't just hide in the shadows. I _become_ them.'_

_ 'Can you do it here?'_

_ 'The Daedric Princes don't seem to have any power over me here in this—in—_'

A bloodcurdling scream jolted Alyssa from her thoughts.

She snapped out of her reverie and whirled around in the direction where the scream had sounded—J'shana was already scrambling to her feet and Morwyn and Kajsa were jolting awake, their eyes wide with alarm.

'What was that?' hissed Kajsa.

The voice was human.

'The girl!' Alyssa shouted. 'On your feet, we're gallivanting early!'

'Bullshit,' Kajsa swore, but she obeyed.

J'shana was lashing her tail in agitation. Her sensitive ears were already pricked and she whispered fearfully, 'Great Alkosh, I can hear the sounds of fighting. We might be too late...'

'So let's move!' Alyssa told her sharply. 'Lead the way; you've the best ears out of the four of us!'

J'shana hesitated for a moment, then nodded and was the first to run into the mist. Alyssa swiftly followed, a still-weary Kajsa and a battle-eager Morwyn charging shortly after.

J'shana soon came into sight. Her Nightingale Bow was raised and her eyes darted about frantically. She hissed at the others to hurry—they weren't too far. They could get there in minutes if they ran fast enough.

Soon Alyssa, swiftly growing breathless, was able to hear the sounds of clashing steel and angry battle-taunts beyond. Faint at first, but they rapidly grew clearer and clearer. Her heart pounded in her throat. _Yah faal Dovahkiinne_. The Dragonborn or Dragonborns beyond were a part of this now—if they still lived.

Then suddenly the sounds were almost on top of them, and J'shana drew an arrow, a fireball kindled in Morwyn's free hand that wasn't clutching the Ebony Sword of the Blaze, Kajsa's Ebony Blade was in her hands and Alyssa had unsheathed her wristblades. She could recognize the taunts ahead.

They burst from the fog in time to come across an astonishing sight—for all of them.

The first thing that Alyssa noticed, immediately, was the fact that there was a very unconscious Argonian lying on the ground. She also noted that he wore armour nearly identical to Morwyn's—and _shit_, that was a crossbow lying beside him.

The second thing was that three knights were there. One lay on the ground, bleeding and fading. And a young woman dressed shoulder to foot in Nightingale armour crouched hesitantly in front of the three knights. In one hand was a sleek sword. In the other...no, _beneath_ the other, was a weapon nearly identical to the one that Alyssa had on her right arm. The formerly-concealed silver blade was extended. Its tip was coated in blood.

'It didn't have to come to this,' one of the knights was snarling at her. 'All we wanted was a little information.'

They were still quite a way across the clearing, Alyssa saw. J'shana was beside her, staring in disbelief and fear at the knights. Behind her, Kajsa and Morwyn caught up, and warningly Alyssa raised a hand, warning them to be silent. She lowered it again. The wristblades were extended once more. They thirsted for blood.

'I don't know who you're looking for!' the girl's voice was wary and trembling.

Very, very quietly, Alyssa started forward. Her heart was beating unusually calmly in her chest. She felt very much like she had felt in the tunnel. That this was her responsibility. That she needed to protect when the others did not possess the means to.

'Lies.' The knight strode forward. 'You knew the same Assassin. You only could have known her.'

_So they don't know about the Alternate Certainties,_ thought Alyssa. Her feet made no sound on the soft, mushy snow.

The knight charged unexpectedly at the girl. She ducked out of the way of the swinging blade. Then, in the brief moment that he was off-balanced, she drove her sword up to the hilt into his abdomen.

And nothing happened.

She stared at him in rising confusion and fear when she tugged it out and the blade was clean, and the knight was laughing, completely unhurt. 'You didn't really think that would work, did you?' he sneered.

The girl dropped the sword, realizing that it was useless in this time. Her eyes darted to the crossbow, and her momentary distraction was enough for the knights to advance. One of them seized her arm and grabbed her hair, exposing her throat. Her eyes widened in terror as the knight moved forward.

'Answer my question,' he hissed into her face, husky beneath his closed-in helmet. '_Where is the Dragonrider?_'

Bloody hell. Didn't that name invoke something.

'Right here,' Alyssa answered.

By the time they spun around at the sound of her voice, she was already running. The nearest knight whirled to meet her but she was already in the air—wristblades extended and glinting. And in that same spectacular kill move she had shown to the other Dragonborns in the word wall cave, so too did she demonstrate it again as her wristblades found their mark in the knight's throat, squarely and cleanly. Her weight knocked him to the ground, and she pushed them deeper into his heart and throat, watching as the wristblades resonated with the member of the other world, and his body dematerialized beneath her.

She straightened and turned back to the others, who had thrown the girl aside and were now turning their attention to her. Alyssa laughed coldly. 'Finally you meet the person you've been looking for, am I right?'

'You won't survive this,' snarled the knight nearest to her. 'We'll just come back. Your head will be ours.'

'Or will it be _Lahkendov's_?' challenged Alyssa, speaking the cryptic name of whoever was the leader of these Gods-damned knights. 'But my head is still my own—and so is the wrath of the dragon that has not quite left me as easily as my abilities have—and a rage that you should know well if you remember me clearly.'

The first blow was so blatant, Alyssa could have seen it coming in her sleep. She sidestepped it with ease, slashing at the knight's arm in passing. She cut a small wound and the knight grunted with pain. The second came sweeping at her unexpectedly—instantly Alyssa crossed the wristblades over like the stalks in an X and shied the blow away, and swung her leg into his knee, tripping him up in the process and sending him sprawling ungracefully onto the snow.

She turned to the next knight and led the offense—in the way that a certain eagle had taught her, she brought the blows raining down, using both blades to her fullest advantage, delivering strike after strike until the knight was stumbling backwards. He was probably bemused beneath his helmet.

'I'm beyond your time,' Alyssa laughed coldly. '_Far_ beyond it!'

She heard movement behind her and sidestepped out of the way of a thrust that otherwise would have impaled her. Alyssa turned and struck it away with the blades, and savagely countered that involved her thrusting her wristblade as far into the knight's throat as she could while holding down his sword. He gargled, and then vanished, and Alyssa whirled around to face the last.

Her senses were sparking within her like old embers taking flight. She felt so _alive!_ She was in her element once more—Alyssa couldn't help but smile beneath her hoods as she engaged in combat with the last, blades to blade. The knight led the offensive, sweeping wide and strong with his sword. Each time, Alyssa sprang backwards, waiting for the chance to strike like a serpent awaiting the moment to bite.

The moment came—the knight, in the wake of a power attack, was left unbalanced. Alyssa drew strength from the ground beneath her feet and pushed off in a spectacular jump. She kicked at his head, causing him to lose balance and topple onto his back. She landed on his front and without hesitation drove both wristblades into his front. He gasped, jerking beneath her, before falling limp.

But he wasn't quite dead yet.

'How,' whispered Alyssa, 'are you feeding off the Well of Souls like the wraiths?'

The dying knight softly laughed. 'He gives us power,' he whispered.

'_Lahkendov?_' presumed Alyssa drily.

'_Lahkendov_,' he affirmed, in shaky Draconic. 'But you can't evade us forever, Dragonrider. You'll never evade us forever. We'll just keep coming back—you foul kind and mine will be in war for eternity, in life, or in death.'

Alyssa smiled coldly. 'I look forward to when you approach me once more.'

Then beneath her twin blades, his form flickered away and dissipated into the air. And Alyssa, who was kneeling on air, then straightened, sheathing her two blades with a simple jerk of her wrists.

She turned to the girl, who was very slowly sitting up, staring at her with wide eyes.

'Who are you?' she murmured.

'Introductions later,' Alyssa replied shortly. She glanced towards the motionless Argonian, relieved to see that J'shana and Kajsa were already heading over to investigate him. 'Who's he?' she asked, turning back to the girl.

'A friend.' The girl pushed herself into a standing position, and went to retrieve her fallen sword. 'He and I have been friends for a while. Since we first met in this place. He found me unconscious and drove the knights away.'

'With that crossbow?' Alyssa approached the girl now. She looked much younger up close—or maybe it was simply in comparison to her, Morwyn's and Kajsa's more weathered appearances. Without a doubt, if this girl was Dragonborn as well, there'd be scars beneath that Nightingale armour.

The girl nodded. 'But I don't understand why my sword won't work...' she glanced down at it uncertainly, and then back up. 'Those knights...you seemed to know who they were. And they seemed to know you, too.'

'And they should,' Morwyn said, coming over. The girl glanced uncertainly towards her, and her eyes immediately took in the heavy dragonbone armour sketched with Daedric sigils and they widened in awe. 'One merely has to observe Alyssa and a knight to know that they're rather vengeful to each other.'

Alyssa smirked. 'If only you knew, Morwyn.'

'Yes, if only.' Morwyn examined the girl, who was just about as tall as she was. 'And you possess a weapon similar to what Alyssa's wearing, too. So you know who those knights are as well, I reckon.'

'There's only one way you could have come into possession of that weapon,' Alyssa frowned, recollecting the dream she had had not very long ago at all.

The girl shook her head. 'I don't even know how I came to possess it,' she murmured. 'I just woke here, and it was on my wrist. A...a friend of mine used it a lot, though...'

Alyssa narrowed her eyes. 'Friend?'

The girl opened her mouth and then hesitated.

'You wear robes like him,' she murmured. 'Except...'

'Black and cyan,' Alyssa interrupted. 'Yes, I know, gift from a friend as well when I...visited him. Look, the thing is that we may have more in common than we realize. It's quite clear you know about the Assassins of the other world.' The girl was startled, but Alyssa cut over her. 'And if my presumption is correct, I would guess that you are Dragonborn too, am I right?'

The girl was simply perplexed. 'Yes, but...but how did you know? Have we met before?'

'We have now,' Morwyn replied. She tapped her armour. 'Isn't this a rather obvious giveaway of who I am? This was forged from the bones of an elder dragon who was very intent on ripping me in half.'

'A certain dragon which we all have faced,' Alyssa added.

The girl's face suddenly cleared.

'You're all Dragonborns, too? You've all faced Alduin?'

Alyssa nodded. 'You seem to be handling the knowledge quite well.'

The girl nodded. 'Shouts-at-Sun is Dragonborn, too. We've grown to accept it.'

'Shouts-at-Sun?' Morwyn echoed, and then glanced towards where J'shana and Kajsa were crouched beside the unconscious Argonian in dragonbone armour. Understanding dawned on the blue-grey face. 'Ah. Of course.'

The girl frowned and swiftly headed back towards her fallen companion. Alyssa and Morwyn swiftly followed.

'He's just knocked out,' J'shana reassured the girl when she drew near and sank down beside him.

The girl looked at the Khajiit for a moment. Then at Kajsa.

'Are you Dragonborns, too?'

'Aye,' Kajsa affirmed quietly.

'We overheard,' J'shana added, flicking her tailtip. 'But if you're confused, Alyssa can explain. She explained to us when she and Morwyn found me and Kajsa.' Her eyes narrowed slightly. 'In fact, it seems the two of you share something in common.'

'You both knew the knights,' Kajsa added. 'Who were they?'

The girl prepared her response, but Alyssa gave her a warning touch on the shoulder.

'I wouldn't,' Alyssa said. 'Words have power. All of us know this for a fact. I haven't been using their true names—not even thinking them. And you shouldn't, either. Not even in conversation, because they are going to return, and now they're going to look for you as well.'

The girl frowned. 'But what do they want with you at all?'

'Something that they'd benefit greatly from,' Alyssa replied. She noted the small camp that the pair had seemingly made for themselves. There was a single bedroll lying beneath a tall, black tree, and a satchel leaning against the roots. The scuffled ashy snow suggested that the fight had ensured here and not too long ago.

Suddenly the Argonian groaned and started to stir. 'He's coming round,' reported J'shana.

A moment later, he did so. His unusual blue eyes flickered open, and awkwardly he pushed himself into a sitting position.

'Sun,' breathed the girl, putting a hand on his shoulder alongside J'shana, and helping him sit up. 'Sun, I'm so sorry...I should have warned you earlier...'

The Argonian, Shouts-at-Sun, rubbed his head for a moment, and then became aware of the several new characters surrounding him. He lowered his hand and glanced at the four new people he had not seen before.

'Who are they?' he asked, his voice a clear, reptilian hiss.

'Friends,' J'shana replied. 'And Dragonborns.'

Shouts-at-Sun looked bemused. 'As well?'

'As well,' Alyssa replied, sitting down beside him. 'And perhaps, now that you've come around and the knights are held off for the time being, we can formally become acquainted. My name's Alyssa Laryssin—and mind that we just say our names. I daresay we all have a lot of titles.'

'I'm Kajsa Red-Blade,' Kajsa said, observing the girl and Shouts-at-Sun through a furrowed brow.

'J'shana Tygra,' introduced J'shana. 'And this is Morwyn.'

'I can introduce myself, you know,' said Morwyn irritably, shooting the Khajiit a narrowed-eye crimson glare. J'shana merely flicked her tail, unbothered.

The Dunmer glanced down at the Argonian and young Nord. 'And who might you two be?'

The Argonian sat up a little more, curling his tail (with a strangely-dragonish tail-end on the tip of it, Alyssa noted with fascination) over his legs, and said, 'My name is Shouts-at-Sun. This is Quill.' He nodded to the girl, who nodded in confirmation.

'Quill,' repeated Alyssa musingly. Then she nodded.

'You and I have a lot to talk about.'

* * *

**A/N: They do indeed...**

**Slight reference to a certain something. Those of you who have taken a brief peek at Quill's story will probably know who I've referenced - or you might have put a few things together to draw to the conclusion. And thus, Shouts-at-Sun and Quill meet the others. They'll be sticking together from now on. And also: next chapter will have a few Assassin's Creed references as Alyssa and Quill have a chat, as it's significant. So don't be too confused, please! And thanks for taking time to read, of course :)**


	11. Scars and Stories

**A/N: Hey all! Here's chapter eleven...this one was actually quite fun to write. We introduce a few games that skyflower51 and MadameHyde invented. In a way, they're all bonding in this chapter. I do hope you like this one!**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Even though there wasn't any sign of time change in this land of Pass, Quill thought it had a kind of nightly feel about it.

They were gathered around the tall, sort-of-dead, sort-of-alive tree. She had produced a few more bedrolls since their party had now officially grown from two to six. Of course, the matter of getting them from her satchel that looked barely large enough to contain one had sparked slight amazement from the newcomers.

'Okay,' said Kajsa slowly as Quill burrowed into her satchel. '_Now_ I've seen everything.'

'It has an enchantment over it,' Quill explained, giving Shouts-at-Sun two more bedrolls. 'You don't want to know how much other stuff is in it.' She had smiled a little wryly at that. A few assorted weapons, some clothes, a bit of food (though it wasn't terribly much use here) and potions. She was amazed she had even brought that all to Sovngarde with her.

The Argonian had flashed her a grin. He had been equally surprised at her bag at first, but like her identical status as Dragonborn, had come to accept it.

'Out of curiosity,' Morwyn the Dark Elf said questioningly, 'What else _do_ you have?'

'A few potions, a bit of food, useless stuff like that,' answered Quill, throwing it back against the trunk. It had made a very loud _thunk_ when it had collided with the tree trunk, quite disproportionate to its size.

'You only have three bedrolls?' J'shana asked.

'Yes. I'm actually surprised I have even two. I usually travel alone.'

'Why?' Kajsa asked.

Quill paused. 'A few nightmares, that's all,' she replied quietly.

She saw Alyssa's face shadow a little at this and wondered if she had nightmares as well.

Three were permitted to rest and the other three were to guard. Since Shouts-at-Sun still hadn't entirely recovered from his encounter with the knight, he rested with an apparently-exhausted Kajsa and Morwyn who both looked quite pleased to be sleeping on something other than ash and rock. J'shana, who seemed to take to the idea of watching from above rather than below, was now settled like a large, furry cat in the tree branches and observing her surroundings from there. Quill and Alyssa, who did not possess claws, remained on the ground.

Quill shivered as she remembered the strange weapon she had awoken. The one that her friend had used while he stayed unceremoniously in Skyrim. It had been bloody painful to eject—it had nearly sliced her finger off. Even now Quill examined the cut and sighed. A lack of time meant that it wasn't going to be healing fast, though it didn't seem to hurt now.

Beside her, she heard a soft laugh. 'I had the same problem when I ejected it for the first time, you know.'

Quill jumped and glanced over her shoulder. Alyssa came over and sat beside her, and she nodded knowingly at Quill's bracer as she settled on the ash.

'One of the Assassins,' Alyssa went on, 'was quite keen for me to have my finger removed. But I was quite keen on keeping that finger.' She pushed out her left hand, the one that Quill saw was covered with a worn Guild leather glove, and tapped it. There was a slight metallic rustling each time she tapped it and Quill remembered that when this woman had come to her aid, she had displayed two blades, one under, and one over. 'So I innovated. It saved my finger and I'm glad I did, particularly as Altaïr changed the design later.'

Quill jumped at the sound of his name—spoken aloud by someone of an Alternate Certainty (according to Alyssa), more unusually at that. Alyssa looked surprised that she had said his name as well—it was as though she had been preparing to take a plunge with it during all her time here.

Then her eyes lowered. 'But you met him as well?'

Quill hesitantly nodded. 'Yes. I did. But I don't understand—I didn't have this on me when I died.' She held out her hand and examined the bracer again, but didn't want to release the blade for fear of cutting her finger clean off. 'So why do I have it in Pass?'

Alyssa seemed very quiet and thoughtful for a moment.

Then she said, 'He watches over me, you know. He and I...well, we shared the Currents together, in death.'

'The Currents of Time, right?' Quill guessed, in reference to "Currents". She had remembered quite a bit about what Alyssa had told her and Shouts-at-Sun not long ago, about the parallel universes and all that.

Alyssa nodded. 'Aye. It was connected to his world and ours in a way that should both be blatantly obvious and unseen. And I often visit his world, you know. I went there twice in life—and I know what it is to have a soul torn forcefully from you, and to live without the fireblood in your veins.'

Quill put a hand over her mouth. 'You...you went to _his_ world?' she whispered. 'Syria?'

Alyssa laughed. 'Syria, Quill, is the name of his homeland. His world had a different name.' She grew subdued and added, 'And it has a different meaning to me. My Gods...a part of me wishes to be back there, for the first time, waking up in the Holy Land with Odah at my side...'

'Odahviing?' interrupted Quill. She tried to take it in. 'A _dragon_ went with you to...to Altaïr's world?' She winced—it seemed to feel inappropriate to speak his name, as much as she wanted to in order to keep the relevance in the conversation.

Alyssa smiled. 'Aye. Odah did. He and I possessed a connection and we were together at the time we were sent through the Vortex. The connection was a soul-linked one, enabling us to commune through telepathy, and it was strong enough to keep us two dragons together while in that world.'

She picked absently at a few grains of dust in front of her boot. 'He was _very_ surprised, and alarmed, to meet Odah face to face.' She glanced at Quill and added, 'Did he...in your Certainty...did he ever meet Odahviing?'

Quill shook her head. 'He helped me kill a dragon and he saw me absorb its soul, but at that time Odahviing was still our enemy. He was there when we faced Alduin on the Throat of the World, but...vanished, unceremoniously, shortly after—I think, back to his world.' She couldn't, however, deny the glimpses of him she thought she had seen in Sovngarde, and hearing his voice, frightened and concerned, murmuring faintly in her ear. Had he somehow reached across worlds and given her his bracer as she died? As a sign of good luck? Had he even known where she was going? Maybe Pass was a kind of hell for him, like Oblivion was in Tamriel.

Alyssa sighed. 'I was the one who kept doing the vanishing. It tore me apart the first time to leave him, though—that, and joy at returning home. It was what I had wanted, after all, but I had joined his Order and I cared so much for the Assassins there. They had really honed my skills and given my life purpose again.' She fell silent, as though remembering something. Perhaps the last time they had seen each other, Quill guessed mentally.

After a moment, Quill said quietly, 'It sounded as though you were very good friends with him.'

'Yes,' murmured Alyssa. 'Very good friends.' Her thoughts still seemed elsewhere.

Quill dared herself to ask what had been pressing on her mind. 'Did you...did you...?'

She didn't even need to ask the whole question. Alyssa's eyes grew brighter with alarm and anger, and then dulled to sadness and loneliness.

'I don't know anymore,' she answered.

She sighed quietly. 'But I'm glad that I met him at all. Let's stay with that.'

Quill leaned forward, her hands running through the soft grey snow beneath her hands.

'You fight very well with the Hidden Blades,' she said.

Alyssa smiled a little. 'They're my beauties. I was trained to use these by the Assassins I met. And as a result, it's left my pockets free. They work like the Skeleton Key when I need to get somewhere I'm not meant to be.'

She glanced at Quill's bracer. 'But the knights have the advantage. I'm the only one who can really kill them. You don't know how to fight them with that weapon.'

Quill narrowed her eyes. 'I'm not defenseless.'

'Against the knights, you pretty much are. Some of the Novices I met were better than you. Here, hand me that bracer.'

Quill didn't bother asking what "Novices" she had mentioned, and felt a little irritated at Alyssa's calm dismissal of her abilities. However, she took the bracer off nonetheless and handed it to her. With a nod of thanks, Alyssa took it.

'What are you going to do with it?' she asked.

'Tamper it so you can use it without slicing your finger off.' Alyssa examined it with sharp green eyes. 'I remember some of Leo's tampering with the bracer he got. Let's hope that it'll be enough.'

'Leo?' echoed Quill.

Alyssa didn't spare her an answer. She seemed to be completely immersed with carefully disassembling it. Quill watched, her brow furrowing. For some reason, she felt very protective of it, and felt more and more certain that Alyssa was currently destroying it.

Several long moments passed and there seemed to be no progress, but Alyssa didn't look frustrated or uncertain for a single moment. Then, there was a little _click_, one that sounded affirmative. Alyssa unsheathed her wristblade on her left arm, the one that went over the knuckles, and with the tip, twiddled around at the edges like a spanner. Then, she sheathed it and tested it. The blade jumped out keenly, and Alyssa sheathed it again, and handed it back to Quill.

'There. Try that.'

'What have you done to it?' Quill asked suspiciously.

Alyssa shrugged. 'Adapted it so it won't slice off your finger, that's all.'

'So what will it do instead?' Quill fastened it around her wrist. 'Cut off my whole hand?'

'Very funny.' Alyssa raised her right hand and flicked her wrist—the blade jumped out beneath her hand, and Quill's eyes were drawn to the sharp movement of it. She saw that, like before, it didn't slash her ring finger open. 'It'll simply behave like this one.'

Quill felt cautious. She finished tightening the buckles and examined it. It didn't appear any different than it had been earlier. She held out her left hand and closed her eyes and tensed as though she were about to skydive from the Throat of the World.

Then, she unsheathed it.

She heard the sharp _zing_ as the blade jumped out from its sheath.

But she felt no pain accompany it.

She opened her eyes, and saw that the blade had passed beneath her wrist, but her fingers had been left untouched.

Alyssa grinned. 'Ah, good. My knowledge hasn't gone rusty, then.'

'How...how...?' Quill stammered, amazed. She sheathed it—the blade passed smoothly beneath her fingers and into its sheath without the slightest sound.

'I had an _excellent_ teacher,' Alyssa responded lightly. She stood up and motioned for Quill to do the same. 'Now, I'm going to pass down what I know to you, so you know how to fight against these knights should they ever come against you again.'

Quill frowned. She felt at a serious disadvantage. 'But you still have an advantage. You have two.'

Alyssa looked levelly at Quill and stated, 'From the time when I faced these particular knights, Quill, I had one.' She tapped her Guildmaster's bracer. 'And I killed so many with it that I've nearly lost count. Sparing kills between the Bow, of course.'

'The Bow?' Quill echoed.

'The Nightingale Bow.' Alyssa frowned. 'You did get it, didn't you? From Karliah.'

'...Yes,' Quill replied uncertainly. She stood up. 'And you did, too, I'm guessing.' It felt all the weirder seeing and speaking with these...these parallel versions of herself. All (save Sun, fortunately) who had become Guildmasters of their respective Thieves Guilds, met Karliah, killed Mercer and received their leathers from Tonilia.

Alyssa gave a single nod, and then stepped back, unsheathing the blade on her left arm. Quill unsheathed hers, feeling a small thrill pass through her as she did so. The mechanism felt so more advanced and subtle than she could have dreamed, more lethal than an assassin's dagger, more useful than a sackful of lockpicks...

'I'll make an Assassin out of you yet,' Alyssa said.

Quill gave a determined nod. 'I'm ready.'

* * *

'Ten of Dragons.' J'shana threw down her card with a triumphant smirk.

Morwyn's face brightened and she grinned. 'King of Elves.' She threw down her card with a grin. 'Although the drawing on it is _terrible_. Since _when_ do we look like that?'

'You already look like a stone carving,' Kajsa replied. 'Ace of Elves. Mine.' She gestured to the cards.

'Damn it.' Morwyn and J'shana pushed their hands over. Kajsa smiled at them as she took them in.

'Pleasure doing business with you,' she replied. She glanced to her left. 'Well, Shouts-at-Sun? What's your call?'

'Hmm...' The Argonian fumbled with his hand, then proffered a card and put it down. 'Eight of Beastfolk.' He grinned toothily at them. 'And I look very handsome in that card, might I add.'

'I look even nicer on the Four of Beastfolk,' replied J'shana with a smirk. 'Nine of Humans, though I'm anything but.' She set hers on top of Shouts-at-Sun, who hissed with frustration, lashing his tail with the sharp end.

'Watch it,' Kajsa warned him. 'Keep weapons sheathed during play.'

'Ten of Humans,' said Morwyn, putting down her card. 'And I do believe that these cards are mine to call my own.'

'How do you know?' Kajsa challenged.

'Because you let slip your poker face.'

Kajsa examined her cards and then sighed. 'Bugger. That's what you get for playing with fellow thieves.'

J'shana laughed. 'I had plenty of practice with Mercer.'

'And this is how you spent your two years with the Guild before you went to Goldenglow?' Morwyn inquired. The Khajiit flashed her a grin.

'More or less. Bryn was pretty good as well, might I add. Vex was just plain dangerous. Delvin was completely shoddy. As for me, well, I'm naturally sneaky. Two of Dragons.' J'shana threw her card down.

'Three of Humans,' Morwyn retaliated.

'Five of Beastfolk,' Kajsa responded.

'_Six_ of Beastfolk,' Shouts-at-Sun challenged.

'Seven of Dragons,' answered J'shana.

'Question,' interjected Kajsa. 'Are your cards _always_ dragons?'

J'shana laughed. 'I'm not going to answer _that_, Red-Blade. Morwyn, play your piece.'

'Eight,' Morwyn announced dramatically, 'of _Sheogorath!_' And she slapped an invisible card on the pile.

Shouts-at-Sun was bemused. 'Eight of Sheogorath?'

'It overrules all opposition.' The Dunmer grinned at him.

'Take your "eight of Sheogorath" back, madwoman,' J'shana told her wearily, with a roll of her copper-coloured eyes. 'And play down your card.'

Morwyn pouted as she took her invisible Eight of Sheogorath back. 'Then I'm out.'

'Well, I _can_ counter with Nine of Dragons,' Kajsa declared.

'And _I_ can counter with Housecarl of Beastfolk,' Shouts-at-Sun replied.

The group looked at their cards and sighed.

'Thank you most appreciatively.' Shouts-at-Sun took in the notably large pile.

Kajsa distantly heard the cling of metal and glanced over her shoulder. 'They're still at it?' she asked, almost incredulously—and jealously. She was still shivering from her heavy bite from the wraith.

'Looks like it.' J'shana's eyes drifted over Kajsa's shoulder towards where she could see the two others of their party still practicing, the glint of their wristblades visible from where they sat beneath the tree. 'My goodness. They've been going at it for quite a while.'

'Do you know what they're actually _doing?_' Kajsa asked. She glanced back at the group. 'I mean, what are those weapons at all? They're unlike anything I've seen!'

'They're unlike anything that we've seen,' Morwyn replied, 'but if Alyssa's training her up to fight off those knights, then I'm content.' She threw down her card and said, 'Three of Humans, and if anyone has anything higher then—'

'Five of Elves,' Kajsa said.

'—I'm out.'

The card game circulated for a little while yet, until gradually the interest simmered away and the cards were tucked away into J'shana's pocket. 'And they're _still _at it,' the Khajiit added ruefully.

Morwyn rolled her eyes. 'Then call them back over. They'll exhaust themselves.'

'But they're getting better,' Shouts-at-Sun noted. He had been watching Quill for quite a while, and at first, she had been awkward and clumsy and hesitant with her movements, unsure how to use that bracer-blade of hers, or whatever it was called. Now she and Alyssa could hold their spars for longer and longer before Quill was defeated.

'It'll have to do for now,' said Kajsa. 'We can't have them dropping dead on us.'

J'shana put her fingers in her mouth and whistled sharply, attracting both their attention. Alyssa and Quill snapped around at the shrill sound, pausing mid-spar.

'Over here, you two!' J'shana called.

'I,' stated Morwyn slowly, as Alyssa and Quill padded over, 'have _always_ wanted to do that.'

J'shana blinked innocently. 'What?'

'That...that whistle thing. How do you do it?'

'It's the best way for dealing with dogs,' J'shana explained. 'It was dead useful when I had to call Meeko.'

Kajsa frowned. 'What about werewolves?'

'By the way that we've now obediently come over, it's confirmed it works on all kinds of dogs,' Alyssa answered, as she came into speaking distance with Quill just behind her. The group shuffled over, making room for the two new arrivals. They both looked quite relieved to be off their feet.

'You were going at it for quite some time,' Shouts-at-Sun noted, seeing Quill's weary expression.

She smiled wearily in response. 'Yeah. But I've gained some new knowledge.'

'Let's hope it stays there,' Alyssa replied. 'But you don't look as bored nearly as much as I imagined.'

'We've been passing the moments,' J'shana explained.

Kajsa groaned and put her head in her hands. 'If we are going to teach these two how to play cards, and then play any more cards, I'm going to need to kill something really badly.'

Quill furrowed her brow. 'Tired of cards?' she guessed.

Shouts-at-Sun shrugged. 'One of us is, at least.'

Kajsa glared at him. 'Don't you start as well,' she growled. 'Damn beastfolk...'

Shouts-at-Sun was puzzled. 'Start what?'

'Don't worry about it,' J'shana said. 'I have that happy role of annoying her whenever I have the chance. Morwyn has the happy role of annoying everyone when she has the chance.'

'And do you also have the happy role of telling everyone their happy roles?' Morwyn asked.

Everyone laughed.

'No,' J'shana said slowly, 'but I do have the happy role of telling you I don't have the happy role of telling everyone their happy roles when I already have a happy role and you have a happy role that should be happily rolled.'

Confusion. 'Um...repeat?' asked Quill slowly.

'Don't encourage her!' Kajsa exclaimed. 'Are you _mad?_'

'Ooh, ooh, I know this one! Repeat?'

'_Morwyn!_'

'Certainly!' J'shana replied brightly. 'I do have the happy—'

Shouts-at-Sun cuffed her.

'_Thank_ you,' Kajsa sighed gratefully.

'Now that we've relieved our boredom for about five seconds,' Alyssa said, as J'shana rubbed the back of her head and swore blackly at Shouts-at-Sun in Ta'agra, 'How should we pass a few more moments?'

'You know,' Quill interjected suddenly, 'I _have_ wondered if we can eat here.'

The group glanced at her. 'There's nothing to eat, even if we wanted to,' argued Kajsa.

'But it must be possible,' Quill pressed. 'We've all been to Sovngarde. We've all seen the heroes of old eating.'

'Roast ox,' Alyssa commented. 'It's quite delicious. I hope you tried it.'

'I did,' Kajsa put in. 'Pork tastes nicer, though.'

'I prefer ribs to ox, I think,' Shouts-at-Sun stated.

'Ox is _delicious_,' Morwyn said, frowning disapprovingly at the Argonian and half-Breton. 'How could you say otherwise?'

'I like fish better,' J'shana said.

'But your point at bringing up food in the first place?' Alyssa asked questioningly.

Quill jumped. 'Right. Well, I think I have a few bottles of mead in my satchel...'

'Of course, the magic satchel,' Morwyn announced, clapping a palm to her head. 'How could we have forgotten?'

'You took _booze_ to Sovngarde?' Kajsa asked in astonishment. 'You took alcohol to Shor's Hall—a _mead_ hall!?'

'I forgot it was in there!' Quill said in her defense, as she pulled her satchel to her side and began to rummage around in it. 'In fact, I have a lot of weird things in here...' She stuck her head into the bag and the group heard her voice echo out of it. 'Wow. I completely forgot _this_ was in here...'

'Let's see it!' J'shana said eagerly.

'Let's _not_ see it,' Alyssa suggested, 'and find out what she wants us to see.'

'I shudder to think what exactly is going to fall out of it if she upends it,' said Shouts-at-Sun.

'Maybe several artifacts we know and love?' suggested Morwyn.

'Well, several artifacts that maybe _you_ know and love, Dark Elf,' Kajsa deflected. 'Not all of us are willing Daedric servants.'

'Excuse me? Willing?' Morwyn cocked a brow. 'The Daedra are merely a part of my life – or were, I should say. Just like the air and the sun and the stars are.'

'They make you do terrible things,' Kajsa argued.

'And clearing out a temple was a terrible thing?' Morwyn challenged.

'It was when the Daedra make you feel as though you're their property,' muttered J'shana mutinously, with a flick of their tail.

Alyssa smiled wryly. 'You know,' she said thoughtfully, 'all my life, I grew up learning to hate the Daedra. And yet, in the end...I was indebted to a few of them.'

'You were?' Shouts-at-Sun asked, surprised.

'Who?' asked J'shana curiously. 'Surely not Nocturnal?'

'Oblivion, no, not Nocturnal. I broke my oath in life with her when I left Skyrim. I was, however, indebted to—'

At that moment Quill resurfaced with a grin of triumph and several bottles of mead in her hand. 'And here we have it!' she said, putting six bottles of mead on the ground. 'And they're _all_ still full!'

'Is there a portal out of Pass in that satchel of yours, too?' Kajsa asked sarcastically, but picking up a bottle of mead nonetheless.

Quill looked thoughtful. 'Let me just check,' she said, delving back into her satchel again. J'shana started coughing and Kajsa threw her a glare.

'The real question is, however,' wondered Alyssa, picking up a bottle, 'if we can still drink these.'

'Why not?' asked Morwyn. 'It feels solid.' Her eyes suddenly brightened. 'And I have an idea on exactly how we drink it.'

'Oh, yes?' Kajsa said. 'And what is this wonderful idea of yours?'

'Hey, Quill! Do you have any paper and charcoal in that bag, and a spare helmet?'

'Paper and charcoal, I do have...' Quill withdrew the items, looking puzzled. 'But a helmet, I...wait, I have an iron one. Will that do?' She sounded perplexed as she drew out the helmet—by the glow around its edges, it appeared enchanted, though weakly.

'It'll do.' Morwyn took the helmet and writing materials and swiftly started writing on the piece of paper, tearing each piece of writing off, folding it in half and tucking it into the helmet.

The group had no idea what she was doing. At last, Shouts-at-Sun braved the question.

'What are you doing, Morwyn?'

She looked up, honestly surprised. 'You've never played Scar or Story?'

'What's that?' J'shana asked curiously.

'YOU haven't played it?' Morwyn stared. 'But you're in the Guild!'

'...Yes, I was,' J'shana replied. 'But Scar or Story wasn't one I know.'

'Nor I,' Quill added. Alyssa and Kajsa nodded agreement. 'And as for Sun, he wasn't even _in_ the Guild.' Quill threw him a glance.

'Wow,' stated Kajsa flatly. 'That must be awkward.'

Shouts-at-Sun narrowed his eyes. 'I must say, I'm coping surprisingly well sitting next to a small band of thieves, who all claim to have been Guildmasters.'

'_We were!_' the defensive reply chorused.

He held up his hands. 'All right, all right. Alternate Certainties, yes?'

'_Geh_,' answered Alyssa, absently slipping into the dragon's tongue, and then out of it. 'You nearly finished whatever it is that you're doing over there, Morwyn?'

'Aye!' the Dunmer affirmed, Nordic style, put the last piece of paper in the helmet, and then rested it by her knees as she picked up a bottle. 'Now—since none of you appear to have ever played Scar or Story in your alternate dimensions before, I'll explain. Scar or Story is the usual drinking game of the Guild I knew. What happens is, we go around the group in a circle of sorts, and on your turn, you can show us a scar and explain how you got it, or draw a story out of the helmet and tell that. These slips of paper—' She shook the helmet '—can say anything. First time you stole something, first time arrested, last time you did something incredibly stupid, first time you bedded a—something.' She was made aware the group wasn't single sex anymore by a raised-eyebrow reminder from Shouts-at-Sun. 'Life stories like that,' she went on. 'Or you can choose to pass, but you have to chug down what's left in your bottle. If you can't, then you're dared to do something—which you _have_ to do. No backing out of it.'

'I don't know whether that sounds fun or harsh,' commented Kajsa.

'Sounds fun!' exclaimed J'shana brightly.

'I'm willing to give it a go,' Shouts-at-Sun commented. Quill nodded.

Alyssa bit her lip. 'Hmm. I have a feeling I'm going to be telling a lot of stories.'

Morwyn's eyes shadowed and Quill glanced uncertainly between them. 'No scars?' she guessed.

'Too many,' Alyssa answered softly.

The others looked puzzled and intrigued, but Morwyn cut across them and announced, 'Who wants to start?' At the silence, she rolled her eyes and said, 'All right, I will.' She uncorked her bottle, was silent for a moment, then said, 'Story—'

'Before we start,' interjected Shouts-at-Sun, 'what happens if the mead runs out?'

'I actually seem to have a lot of it,' said Quill. 'I think we'll be all right, so long as none of us pass too often.'

'Depends what the slips of paper say,' muttered Kajsa darkly.

'Here is an example,' Morwyn announced, drawing a piece of paper from the helmet and unfolding it. She read it aloud: 'First time you stole something.' With a small smile she put it down and added, 'Well, for me, that'd have to be the Elder Scroll from Blackreach.'

'Now since we've all been there,' Shouts-at-Sun interrupted, 'how about you tell us exactly how you fared underground? Did you go alone?'

Morwyn shook her head. 'Ralof came with me.'

Recognition flashed in all their eyes. 'I'd like to know how he fared against Vulthuryol,' commented Kajsa.

'That ancient dragon who lived in Blackreach?' Shouts-at-Sun checked.

'He was pretty good against it,' Morwyn conceded. 'And all agog like most Nords were when he saw me absorb its soul. Fared well against the Falmer, too. Saved my hide a few times and I saved his arse pretty much around every bend.'

'That sounds like my Ralof,' mused Alyssa. 'Always charging headfirst into things without checking what might be waiting for him first.'

'Tell me about it.' Morwyn passed the helmet to Kajsa. 'Scar or Story?'

Kajsa hesitated. She looked uncertain.

'If it's a scar,' said Shouts-at-Sun coaxingly, 'and you don't want to show us, then that's fine. Draw a story.'

Kajsa nodded and wordlessly drew a slip of paper from the helmet. She read it, and seemed to relax slightly.

'What does it say?' J'shana asked.

'First job with the Guild,' announced Kajsa.

Shous-at-Sun frowned. 'What happens if I draw a slip that's related to the Guild?' he demanded.

'Then we adapt it—first job with the Companions,' answered Morwyn. She paused. 'You _are_ the Harbinger of the Companions, right?'

'Yes, I am. Also Arch-Mage. Satisfied? Just not in the crime area of Skyrim.'

'Don't say that when you're speaking to thieves and assassins,' Alyssa advised. 'Excluding you, everyone except Morwyn is both.'

'Question,' Kajsa put in. 'I was a member of the Cyrodiil Thieves Guild and Skyrim's. Which Guild?'

'Whichever you want,' said Alyssa. 'For most of us, the Goldenglow job was our first, and we don't need to hear about burning beehives and punching the shit out of a certain Altmer.'

'It felt good, though,' Morwyn put in.

'Mer loves to beat up mer. No wonder you're mad, Morwyn.'

'Thank you, Mr. Sun. Kajsa?'

'Well, being born and raised in the Thieves Guild in Skyrim, being nurtured by two parents who were thieves and generally causing havoc as a kid, it was inevitable that I'd grow up to be a thief,' Kajsa began. 'When I headed down to Cyrodiil I joined with the Cyrodiilic Thieves Guild. My first job, I remember, was a simple one. Plant some phoney evidence and get some poor sod locked up in the cells.

'Only thing was, that "poor sod" happened to be a pirate.'

'My goodness,' said J'shana sarcastically, 'a _pirate_. Oh, in comparison the Goldenglow Estate was just too _easy_...'

'Shut up, J'shana,' Kajsa snapped, and the Khajiit laughed. Kajsa was grinning a bit herself though as she continued. 'So it started out all right. I snuck into a crate and climbed out when they had moved me into the hull. Snuck past the pirates who were on the bottom floor easily enough. Climbed up the ladder and stole towards the captain's cabin. Picked the lock, slipped inside, he was drunk, planting the evidence in his pocket was the _easy_ part—but then came the dilemma of getting off.'

'What happened?' asked Quill.

'Well, for one thing, the boat was out in the middle of the Niben...'

The group cracked at that.

'...and the pirates also noted me walking out of the captain's cabin,' Kajsa added.

'Now _that_ was smart,' said Morwyn wisely.

'Which meant,' Kajsa continued, 'I had to try and explain why I was exactly in the captain's cabin without drawing suspicion if I wanted the plan to go off without a hitch. But it was quite difficult to explain that when you're wearing rather notable Cyrodiilic Thieves Guild armour with a hood over your head to cover your eyes and a mask over your face to protect your identity and muffle your voice.'

She grinned. 'At least, it _would_ have been difficult, if the pirates _hadn't_ been drunk.'

'Gods bless alcohol!' shouted Morwyn, thrusting her bottle up in the air.

'Cut it out, Morwyn—surely you're not drunk already?' Alyssa inquired.

'Who knows, I might be—this tastes like mead through and through!'

'Go on, Kajsa,' Shouts-at-Sun prompted. 'What happened next?'

'What happened,' said Kajsa serenely, 'was that I told them that I had gotten onto the wrong boat and that I'd be leaving now. Of course, they pointed out helpfully that they were in the middle of the Niben and on due course for the oceans beyond. If I jumped off now the slaughterfish would get me. So I asked them if they could kindly drop me off at Bravil since we were just passing it.'

'And they didn't?' J'shana asked.

'Actually, they were very courteous pirates when they were drunk.'

Several spluttered with laughter. 'They didn't, did they?' exclaimed Quill.

'The next thing I knew, I was being rowed across the Niben by a pirate who deposited me on the bank near Bravil, wished me a good night and had rowed off back to the boat again—without their captain knowing.' Kajsa smirked. 'And since I was due back in Bravil, they could hardly understand how I could have gotten to the city so damn quickly. I think they thought _I_ was drunk when they told me the pirates dropped me off on Bravil's doorstep and wished me goodnight. _Especially_ when ten days later the captain ended up in the Imperial City prisons.'

The group howled with laughter and Kajsa winked. 'My friends, take pirate contracts whenever you're feeling lazy!' She pushed the helmet along to Alyssa. 'Scar or Story?' She seemed to be getting the hang of it.

'Story,' Alyssa replied, and drew out a slip of paper. She examined it and cocked an eyebrow. 'My, how tactful.'

'What does it say?' Quill asked, trying to read it over Alyssa's shoulder.

'Most hilarious family memory,' she said aloud.

Shouts-at-Sun looked interested. 'This should be good.'

Alyssa grinned, setting it down, already by the look in her eyes recollecting a memory. 'Aye, I can remember at the time it was. It was the day that Zara first attempted to Shout.'

They all sat up at this. 'Excuse me?' exclaimed Kajsa. 'You mean..._dragon_ Shout?'

'Yes – it was also one of the first signs that my sister was far more sensitive in the ways of the Voice than I ever was,' Alyssa added, grinning even more widely. 'And, naturally, it _had_ to be a fire Shout.

'In our family, we get trained to become many things—my mother was a brilliant archer and taught me and Zara how to shoot an arrow. My father was a legendary bladesman. Both he and Delphine taught us—'

'Delphine?' repeated Morwyn, frowning. 'You don't mean...?'

'Yes, I do. Good old Aunty Delphine.' Alyssa grinned at the surprised expressions on her fellow Dragonborns. 'Oh, come on! It was inevitable! My family have been Blades for generations, ever since Tacita! My father was the former Grandmaster, and Delphine was his Second—after Cloud Ruler was sacked, Delphine took refuge in our Estate for a few years, until I was seven. And in that time they taught me and Zara all that they knew about the proper use of a Katana. Zara became a master with her Katana and could match Aunty Delphine any day.'

'AUNTY Delphine,' said J'shana flatly, exchanging a glance with Morwyn.

'Did you still call her that in Sky Haven?' inquired Morwyn, smirking.

'Please,' said Alyssa, rolling her eyes. 'It was interesting enough meeting her as a "harmless innkeeper" in Riverwood – and interesting enough for her to meet _me_ again, after she heard my family had been wiped out a year ago. We dropped the whole "aunt" thing then and there. But as I was saying, so I come into the practice room when I'm five-and-a-half, watching Zara spar with Delphine. My sister was always very interested in the theory of the Voice and spent all her spare time reading about it, studying it, learning to write in it...'

'And you did, too?' Quill asked.

Alyssa made a yea-nay gesture. 'I was more interested in archery, to be honest.

'But recently Zara had learned the incantation for a full Fire Breath thu'um. Of course, she hadn't studied it precisely enough to use it completely—but she had studied some of it, and that was enough.'

'Oh, I can see where this is going,' grinned Morwyn. Knowing grins were spreading around the rest of the circle as Alyssa went on.

'So Zara was sparring against Delphine and back then she wasn't excellent at the blade. Better at defense than offense, so to say. She was only ten! In any case, Delphine was close to disarming her and she says, "Not quite as good as your father yet, eh?" and Zara answers, "_I'm better than you ever were at ten!_" and Delphine simply stares at her blankly and says, "What?" because Zara had said that completely in the dragon's tongue. Father was busy roaring with laughter and didn't notice when Delphine accused Zara of insulting her. Zara denied it and snapped that Delphine ought to calm down.

'Naturally, though, Delphine didn't. "Impertinent little whelp!" she says. "That's dragonling," says Zara. "I don't care what you are, you ought to show me more respect!" she states. "Well, you should be careful," says Zara. "My kind are prone to breathing fire when we're angry, and I don't want to send you out of the room in cinders." "You wouldn't dare," says Delphine, but she's hesitant, and Zara grins and says the Fire Breath thu'um. She meant it to be a joke.'

J'shana clapped a hand to her head suddenly. '_That's_ why Delphine has those scars on her cheek!' she stated abruptly. 'I have _your_ sister to thank for it!'

Alyssa winked. 'It turned out to be a _killer_ joke. I think we were all surprised when she actually _did_ breathe fire, including the offender. The same strength as the first word of the Shout, but it was enough to give Delphine third-degree burns on her head. I still have the amusing memory of seeing Delphine run around the room with her head on fire.'

They laughed. 'And thus did Delphine hate anything that could breathe fire thereafter,' Alyssa concluded. 'She was always a little more wary whenever Zara asked to swordplay her again.'

'I'm not surprised,' smirked Kajsa. 'I wish I'd seen that.'

'Hey, it was her risk!' said Alyssa indignantly. 'Delphine should have known better than to spend time in a nest of dragons!' She passed the helmet over to Quill. 'Scar or Story?'

Quill bit her lip thoughtfully, and then said, 'Scar.' She decided to break the chain of storytelling. Her hand went up to the corner of her Nightingale Armour and she unclipped it a little around her shoulder—she felt self-conscious, but there was only one male in the group and Shouts-at-Sun was an _Argonian_. Besides, this was the largest scar she had. Then she lowered it enough until her shoulder was visible in the halflight and she saw the others' faces wear bemused and amazed expressions.

'From a dragon?' guessed Shouts-at-Sun politely, his eyes taking in the thick, jagged white gash that stretched across her shoulder.

Quill shook her head. 'Actually, from a knight's blade—when they were in my world.'

Alyssa frowned. 'From...seriously? _They_ were in your Certainty?'

'Yes, they came with...with my friend,' Quill explained. 'I was fighting them—they wanted him, and—'

'Who was your friend?' Morwyn interrupted.

'He was a man, a visitor from another world—that one that Alyssa's been to,' Quill explained, a little shyly. 'He looked a little like a Redguard and apparently his world was as hot and as dry as Hammerfell. He was brilliant with a sword. This was his.' She held up her bracer and unsheathed the blade, sheathed it again and went on. 'The knights were his enemies. They faced me and I fought them but one of them stabbed me through the shoulder. Their weapons cut a bad wound in my arm—and no healing potion would mend it.'

Alyssa looked intrigued. 'Why not? They worked for me.'

'I'm not sure—Tolfdir had some theories about it when I explained it to him. But my friend had to heal it in the old-fashioned way, with stitches.'

Everyone winced. They all had had experiences with stitches, it seemed. By the dark expressions in Morwyn's and Kajsa's eyes, more experiences than others.

'It still left a scar,' Quill said. 'But these knights here...it's not my first experiences with them, and I think a few of them still remember me.' As she drew her Nightingale armour back over her shoulder, she shot a grateful glance at Shouts-at-Sun. 'If you hadn't turned up when you did, they probably would have killed me.' She paused. 'Or...or made me fade, or something. I'm already dead.'

Alyssa was silent but her eyes had become thoughtful. Quill thought she heard Alyssa mutter the words '_Vostrunmahsille_', but she was already passing the helmet to Shouts-at-Sun. 'Scar or Story?'

'Scar,' Shouts-at-Sun replied, and removed the dragonbone gauntlet on his left arm. Three long, narrow, jagged pink-coloured slashes were visible through his reddish scales. 'These, I got from a bunch of bandits who ambushed me when I was making a delivery run between Kvatch and Anvil, when I still worked in the inn.'

'You let bandits do that to you?' Morwyn said, surprised. '_Bandits?_'

Shouts-at-Sun gave her a toothy grin. 'I wasn't as good with a sword like I became when I went to Skyrim. I could hold my own and I killed the bandits—but my armour wasn't great, either. Banded iron.'

'That's pathetic,' muttered Kajsa, tapping her Ebony Mail meaningfully.

'Still,' Shouts-at-Sun said, 'the Orc was pretty tough. He nearly bashed my head in with that large warhammer of his. Now, if I ever meet that Orc again...' He smirked, his dragonish appearance becoming somewhat more prominent. Quill vaguely wondered if he had borne this appearance all his life or if it had somehow grown on him. Argonian blood, it seemed, played well to the reptilian nature of the dragons.

Shouts-at-Sun put the gauntlet back on and passed the helmet to J'shana. 'Scar or Story?'

'Story,' J'shana decided after a moment, and withdrew a slip of paper. She read it and grinned. 'Oh, come on. Who writes this?'

'You've got it, haven't you?' Morwyn grinned broadly.

J'shana shot her a dragon-worthy glare, flicking her tail furiously. 'I thought this was about the Guild, not about personal life interests!'

'Why? What does it say?' Alyssa asked eagerly.

'First kiss,' said J'shana ruefully.

Everyone cracked up a little at that.

'Thank goodness I didn't draw that,' Shouts-at-Sun commented.

Quill leaned over to him. 'Why?'

He glanced awkwardly at her. 'Why do you think?'

Quill's eyebrows rose and she stifled a giggle.

'You know the rules,' Kajsa prompted, sounding satisfied that she hadn't been the one to draw the slip. 'Tell the story or drink what's left in the bottle in one gulp. If not...'

'I shudder to think of the dare you'd give me,' J'shana hissed. Then she smiled and sighed. 'Oh, well.' She folded the paper in half in her fingers and said, 'Very well. First time I've ever been kissed?

'I was exploring an old cave near a waterfall somewhere between the Rift and Eastmarch that was full of Falmer. It was after I killed the Falmer's leader that I realized that there was a large underground cage. I looked through a series of bars that acted as part of the floor and saw a trapped Argonian in there. He introduced himself as Derkeethus—' A few knowing nods as various women recognized the name and location '—and asked me to free him.

'I picked the lock and let him out and escorted him back to Darkwater Crossing. It was a fair walk and we got to know each other better along the way. I didn't see him again for a while but it was after he had joined me in my journeys that...well, it happened.'

'You kissed an Argonian?' asked Kajsa, unsure what expression to wear.

J'shana flattened her ears and shot daggers at her. 'Yes, it's not a usual coupling, but so what?' she spat. More calmly she went on. 'We were in Skuldafn together. Derkeethus had promised to come with me and so we rode on Odahviing together...'

'Then how did he get _out?_' demanded Alyssa. 'Odahviing flew off!'

J'shana shrugged. 'He must've come back for Keeth. But after hacking our way through various Draugr and a few lesser dragons who kept ambushing us on the way to the entrance to Sovngarde, we came to the top level and faced down that Dragon Priest, what's-his-name, Nahkriin. Two dragons, a frost and an elder, attacked the pair of us as well. They were intent on killing us before we go the chance to follow their master into Sovngarde. It was a pretty bloody battle.'

Morwyn cocked a brow. 'Mine now sounds too easy.'

'Why? What happened in yours?' J'shana asked curiously.

Morwyn snorted. 'I do believe that I interrupted them, told Oblivion to take them, promptly threw my glass dagger into Nahkriin's arm, pulled it out and punched it through his throat, asked the dragons who was going to be next and they flew off.'

She shrugged. 'I was _pissed_. You would be as well if you had to trudge through bloody Skuldafn alone.'

'We know how that feels,' muttered Quill darkly.

'Well, all three attacked at once,' J'shana went on. 'I took down the frost dragon easily enough but the elder was pretty tough and Nahkriin was powerful.' She shook her head. 'It took all the strength out of me. Keeth saved my life as the elder dragon let out a blast of fire. Nahkriin nearly sent me flying out of Skuldafn completely. I killed the elder dragon and faced Nahkriin only to see him attack. He cut a gash in my arm and I dropped the bow and he loomed above me and prepared to send me to Sovngarde on a one-way trip.'

'And then Keeth heroically saves you?' Kajsa guessed.

J'shana shot her more daggers and then continued. 'Yes, Keeth saved me. He struck down Nahkriin and gave me a health potion. We inserted the staff into the dais and the portal opened up, but Keeth couldn't come with me. So he told me good luck...and...' She flattened her ears, blushing beneath her ash-coloured fur. 'Well, you can guess what happened then.'

'I shudder to think,' Kajsa said drily.

J'shana cursed at her blackly in Ta'agra. Then, switching back to Tamrielic, she added, 'Probably not the most original first-kiss tale, I'm afraid.'

'Good enough,' said Alyssa, sounding satisfied. 'I didn't get mine until after the civil war ended.'

'Who was your husband again?' Quill asked.

'Ralof. Pass the helmet along, J'shana.'

J'shana obliged, passing it back to Morwyn. The cycle began again – but it seemed a more interesting way to pass the moments here than playing cards.

* * *

**A/N: SO. There's my attempt at wit. I hope you liked that chapter, though; I must say, it's been one of the more entertaining ones to write, and I hope you had fun reading. And next time, there's Jon's dramatic entrance, so don't go anywhere!**

**PS, don't you just love Quill's satchel?**


	12. The Seventh Dragonborn

**A/N: Hi, people! Okay, this author's note is weird, but that's because something REALLY weird has just happened with the editing thing in FanFiction. Have any of you noticed that? I can't justify or put these line break things or anything...I had to do copy-and-paste to get these in at all. *sigh* Nevermind. Hopefully it'll sort itself out - hence the delay in posting this chapter. Onward!**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

J'shana leaned contentedly against the dark branches of the tree. While it appeared torn between life and death, it had enough life for it to feel a little homely. The Khajiit lay back in the mass of leafless twigs, curling her tail lightly around the lower branch and twitching it to keep from boredom. She stared up at the sky, murmuring a poem to herself that made her think of home.

She had noticed the changes. Everything felt as though it were growing darker. Not really more dead or alive...but more _genuine_. The snow was the only thing that seemed to be most notably changing—as well as the thickness of the concealing fog. It was sickeningly soft and sometimes felt as though she were wading through a bog when she moved through it. Nothing like what she remembered of it when she first had come here.

_How long?_ she wondered to herself. _How long until we find some way out of here?_

She rested a hand lightly on her side. Being with these Certainties...alternate versions of herself...it had inspired old memories, old thoughts. Here, she felt as though she had joined the Guild for the first time. She had left behind her identity as Dragonborn and just been who she was in truth—J'shana Tygra, daughter of Ri'khan and member of her tribe. Here she was accepted without question, accepted for who she was as a _whole_. Accepted for being a Nightingale, leader of thieves and more importantly, as a Dragonborn who was no longer alone in this dreadful place.

She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that two families of history were brought together once again. Descendant of Kanij Tygra, and descendant of Tacita Laryssin. It was then that J'shana realized exactly how much she and Alyssa had in common. They had both lost their families to the Thalmor. They had both slain Alduin. They had both struggled for acceptance. And they both had secrets that they did not want to share.

J'shana was certain that the cloak that Alyssa always wore—coloured a gentle shade of brown like the skins of the younger, weaker dragons she first had fought in Skyrim—was enchanted, somehow. She had seen a glint of unusual ember-gold colouring here and there. Alyssa always held it close to herself—and whenever they mentioned secrets or scars she and Morwyn had glanced at each other—a subtle movement, something that the others often missed, but J'shana's sharp and practiced eyes detected.

She heard a distant noise and straightened abruptly in the branches, jerked from her thoughts. A wailing shriek, a gasp and a wail of a terrible torn sound—mixed between insanity and triumph, J'shana thought to herself. The sound was joined by another, more far off than the first. Then silence so cold and quiet that J'shana felt a shiver run up her backbone and set her fur on end beneath her Guildmaster's armour.

J'shana wondered if another hapless Dragonborn had fallen to the jaws of those wraiths, and she was unable to suppress a flash of sadness.

She glanced down beneath the tree branches. Morwyn, Kajsa and Shouts-at-Sun were asleep or resting or brooding. Quill was leaning against the tree trunk, examining her wristblade with fascination. She unsheathed it and sheathed it with small metallic clicking sounds that made J'shana wonder where exactly she and Alyssa had received them.

Alyssa was a little way off sitting in the snow on her own.

J'shana bit her lip. She sensed that there was sadness dragging at Alyssa's shoulders. The way that she sat, and her body was hunched and small, it was clear that she was unhappy. The Khajiit hesitated, wondering if she should go and speak with her.

And then she began to hear what Alyssa was saying in the sudden silence.

'...I'm trying. I really am.'

There was a pause. It was as though Alyssa was speaking to herself.

'I know that they're my responsibility,' Alyssa said, and J'shana wondered if she was talking about the other Dragonborns. 'I'm doing my best to help them. But I'm still so blind. We don't even know where to start searching for the Well of Souls. I don't have _your_ sight!'

There was another silence.

'No. I won't. Never.' Alyssa's voice seemed broken.

J'shana frowned. She climbed silently down from the tree and walked towards Alyssa. Quill glanced up for a moment. There was puzzlement in her eyes. She looked back down again as though she'd rather not get involved.

'Morwyn's already seen,' Alyssa growled. J'shana thought her voice sounded notoriously wolfish. 'And that was a mistake. I still don't know what I was thinking when I took the Cloak off.'

J'shana's ears flicked forward. So there was something that she was concealing. This Cloak was enchanted with something. She saw that it was wrapped tightly over Alyssa's shoulders, the brown hood lowered low over her face. Her black and cyan robes tumbled around her.

'And they've all killed Alduin,' said Alyssa, her voice softer, more thoughtful. 'What would they say if they saw my scars?'

It was at that moment that a dreadful shriek rang throughout the distant world—J'shana stiffened. The wraiths were on the move again, and she didn't like where this was going. She rested a hand around the edge of the Nightingale Bow. Before her, Alyssa stiffened, turning her head sharply towards the location of the sound.

'I have to go,' she murmured, and J'shana frowned, seeing nobody nearby but herself. 'Don't worry, my friend. I will find my way back. I did all right in Earth, didn't I?'

_Earth?_ wondered J'shana, but at that moment she could hear the drumming of spectral paws over the peaty snow, and in a flash she had drawn her bow. Alyssa pushed herself to her feet—but as she turned to run, she caught sight of J'shana, and frowned in confusion and alarm.

'What are you doing here?'

'I...' J'shana faltered. 'I saw you on your own, and...'

'And that kind of meant I wanted to _be_ alone,' Alyssa snapped. She cooled down at once, though, and said urgently, 'Listen, J'shana. How much did you hear?'

'S...something about...' J'shana's mind whirled.

'Never mind. Tell me later.' Alyssa whipped around—J'shana had seen the alarm sparking in her green eyes. 'They're coming. Hold them off—I'll rouse the others.'

J'shana nodded, but as she turned to the wraiths as they began to prowl through the fog towards her, she couldn't help wondering—who had Alyssa been speaking to? And what were these secrets, the scars...the dreaded way that she spoke of Alduin? More secrets seemed to lie beneath her Cloak, that was for certain...

The wraiths leapt out and J'shana loosed her arrow through its throat, watching as it vanished into the air, but immediately more and more emerged, until J'shana began to back up, on the verge of being overwhelmed. Her thoughts were jerked sharply back into aggression—and she sensed, with dismay, that a particularly huge pack were coming this way, drawn by the presences of so many Dragonborns...

_Alkosh preserve us all,_ she thought in terror, as the gleaming fangs of a wraith drew closer and closer to her throat.

* * *

They were here!

The howls of the wraiths met Jon's ears and he quickened his pace, his hands grasping around the hilt of Kodaav. He pulled it from its sheath as he ran, faster and faster, urgency filling him. Such a huge pack could only mean that all six of them were here.

He felt as though eternity had passed since he had left the Temple. He had searched for the six others, but had been unable to find them. He had been following the calls of the wraiths, knowing that they'd have been closing in on such a large number of strong-willed Dragonborns. Now he sensed that they had found them—and so had he.

Beyond, through the thick mist, Jon could hear voices risen in urgency, shouts of battle. He heard the swish of blades through the air, the sound of dead snow being shoved and sifted under boots. Jon yanked Kodaav from its sheath at his side—the ancient blade's edges carved their way through the mist, slicing through it as though he were cutting cheese. He felt his body course with a renewed vigor and energy that he had not felt for a very long time.

And he felt unusually calm as he finally pushed his way through the last of the fog and to the battle-scene that raged beyond. Jon saw several wraith heads turn towards him and he raised Kodaav in challenge.

It felt good to speak a battle-taunt in the language he once had accepted as a second to his own.

'_Unt grah voth aan Dovahkiin_.'

* * *

Alyssa whirled around in slight amazement as she heard the Draconic words uttered. Morwyn's Ebony Sword of the Blaze swinging from her hand, she spared the speaker a glance. A few others had turned at the sound of his voice as well.

_Another Dragonborn?_ Alyssa wondered. _But how does he know..._

And yet the first thing that she said to this newcomer was: 'Make up your own battle taunt!'

The man spared her a glance, and Alyssa suddenly saw recognition cross his face. She frowned, confused—she hadn't met him before...

The snarl of a wraith jerked her sharply back into the fighting, and instantly Alyssa spun around to deflect the snapping, snarling jaws. It fell back and she sliced its stomach open, watching as it twitched and then faded.

'Behind you!' Morwyn spared her a glance as fire leapt in her hands.

Alyssa half-turned, and then dropped into a roll as a wraith's jaws closed on where her side originally had been a moment ago. Pushing herself back to her feet, Alyssa readied the sword and drove it through its skull as it made to leap at her face. The wraith struggled for a moment, before fading away, and Alyssa lowered her sword.

Just beyond was the stranger—he was fighting three wraiths at once. His eyes were darkened and narrowed, and in his hands was the most extraordinary sword that Alyssa had seen. It moved through the air as fast as one of J'shana's ebony arrows. Jon sidestepped an attack and ran the sword through its side, and turned to deflect a stunning blow from a second.

Alyssa stepped in to help, lightly slicing across the third wraith's back. It whimpered, then snarled, then turned towards her, jaws agape. It leapt towards her with such suddenness that Alyssa was thrown onto her back.

Instantly she shifted her weight and with one arm threw out the wraith's legs from on top of her. It yelped with surprise and slithered ungracefully to one side as Alyssa pushed herself into a kneeling position and rammed the sword through its throat. It jerked and shuddered through the sword for a moment, before relaxing and fading into the air. Alyssa pulled out her sword from the ground and turned to meet the eyes of the stranger.

'Have we met?' she demanded.

The stranger was surprised for a moment, and then furrowed his brow and shook his head. 'Not personally.'

'Alyssa!'

Alyssa whirled around at the sound of her name. It was Quill—she and Shouts-at-Sun were preparing their weapons towards four figures who were advancing on them. Gods-damned knights. Alyssa swore softly to herself, attracted Morwyn's attention and tossed the Ebony Sword to her.

'Won't be needing this!' Alyssa unsheathed her twin wristblades and set off at a run towards the knights.

'Can't you just leave us alone?' Shouts-at-Sun hissed angrily at the knights, raising his crossbow warningly. 'What do you even want us for?'

'To feed the _Vostrunmahsille_,' growled the leader knight, raising his sword. '_Lahkendov_ seeks the death of the one who calls herself "Dragonrider".'

'Correction—' Quill glanced in relief towards where Alyssa had come to join them, her two wristblades glinting '—_you_, and all my Brothers, call me "Dragonrider". Haven't I already made it rather clear that the name is Dragon_born_?'

Quill hoped that the others were handling themselves all right. There were still many wraiths to be killed—she spared a glance at the battlescene. J'shana and Kajsa were fighting back-to-back, but there was a third person, standing off on his own, handling several wraiths at once.

_Who is he?_

Quill snapped her attention forward at the same time she heard Alyssa snarl at them—she paused in slight bewilderment when she realized she didn't know the language at all, but it seemed to be the language of these knights, because they started to snarl back at her in it.

Eventually Alyssa pulled out of it and growled, 'Come on, then, for old times' sakes.'

They converged, and Alyssa shouted, 'Now!'

Quill unsheathed her own wristblade, and remembering the training that Alyssa had given her, prepared to unleash it on the knights.

She charged at them, fighting down the rising panic in her throat. The nearest knight turned to her and raised his sword, ready to bring it crashing down on her head. But Quill dropped and rolled, and sliced open a wound in the knight's leg in passing. He grunted in pain and staggered. Fast as lightning, Quill straightened and cut open a gash in his arm.

He gasped and swore blackly, but Quill found that the fear was giving way to exhilaration. She was doing it!

'So, the Dragonrider trained you.' The knight turned darkly towards her. 'You truly are one of her kind if she wastes her energy training you.'

Quill felt angry, for some reason, and she found herself locked in swordplay with the knight. 'And you've sunken low if you're selling out your service to this _Lahkendov_ character,' she growled. 'Alduin not good enough for you?'

The knight gave a snarl of rage and surged forward. Quill gasped as the sword narrowly missed cutting off her arm. 'You will be punished for defying us!' he roared.

'And you'll be dead.' Quill felt strange courage building within her, and she ducked and twisted beneath the sword. Her wristblade came down and severed a wound in the man's arm. He cried out as the sword fell from his grasp, and Quill, without hesitation, struck the man through his heart.

As Quill reveled in her small victory, she suddenly heard footsteps behind her. Instantly she dropped down without bothering to see who it was—it was one of the first things Alyssa had taught her to do. Don't hesitate, _ever_, or waste time turning to see who it is. Anyone who approaches from behind is an enemy.

It was fortunate that Alyssa had taught her such a thing. She leapt out of the way of the sword that would've otherwise cut her in half, and back onto her feet, reading her wristblade as she faced the next knight. He advanced, but fell back suddenly with a gasp and a cry, as a bolt pierced his shoulder. He fell forwards, one hand trying to grab the bolt embedded in his right shoulder, the other trying to steady himself, but Shouts-at-Sun advanced without mercy in his blue eyes, and struck the man again.

'Nobody threatens my friend,' he hissed, as he delivered the killing shot.

Within moments the knight had vanished. Quill looked gratefully up at Shouts-at-Sun, who lowered his crossbow and smiled at her.

'That was nice,' Quill commented.

Behind them it was quiet, and they turned around to find Alyssa leaning over one of the knights—the other appeared to have died already, for he wasn't present—and whispering to him. As Quill drew closer, she heard the words.

'You know that your deepest, oldest enemies are watching over us. Think twice before trying to advance against us again.' Alyssa's words thrummed with a soft fury that made a shiver run down Quill's spine. '_Ever_. We are strong united, weak divided—it is how it has always been, and how it will always be, for all Brotherhoods. Including your own.'

The knight struggled feebly beneath her, and rasped, 'Go to hell.'

Alyssa smiled icily at him. 'I intend to.'

Then she stepped back as his body dissipated into the air, and sheathed her wristblades.

It was then that Quill realized something.

The battle had stopped.

She, Alyssa and Shouts-at-Sun approached the others. But they looked all right—they hadn't been hurt. Morwyn's red eyes looked about the area for a moment longer, before the fire in her hands flickered and died.

As a group they looked towards the newcomer. He was standing just a little way off, watching them with unusually passive blue eyes. His sword hung loosely in his hand. Quill tried to read the expression on his face, and realized that it was...relief?

'So,' said Morwyn, 'care to introduce yourself?'

'Don't bother being surprised, Dragonborn,' Kajsa added. 'We're like you as well.'

The figure shook his head. 'Oh, no, I'm not surprised.'

Kajsa frowned slightly, matching the confusion that Quill was currently feeling.

Alyssa appeared perplexed.

'You know Draconic,' she said slowly, walking forward. 'Is your soul still your own?'

The man glanced towards her and said, '_Neh_. But I was reminded of the knowledge that I once had. Not all of it, but enough for me to win your trust.'

Alyssa frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'I've been looking for you—all of you—' The man's eyes swept over the group '—for some time, if you could call it that. You've been struggling to survive in this wasteland, but there is a purpose for you to be here.'

'Yes, to be "harvested",' said Shouts-at-Sun, with a flick of his tail. 'By these beasts that keep attacking us.'

'Drainwraiths,' said the man. 'They're called Drainwraiths.'

Quill found herself staring at him and wondering in a daze how he knew at all.

'But there's another purpose,' the man went on. 'There's a prophecy that needs to be fulfilled. And it involves you six and I.' He glanced around him warily, before he said, 'But there's no time to explain here. They'll be back in larger numbers. I need you all to come with me—I promise that I'll explain.'

But Alyssa said, 'Prophecy?'

'You don't say,' Morwyn added. 'What is the prophecy?'

The man looked between the two women, and said calmly, 'You already know what it is. In fact...all of you do. Again, no time—there's a haven where we can rest and gather our strength, and prepare ourselves for the task that lies ahead of us. It's where I found the answers—and where you'll find yours.'

'Do you mean the word-wall cave?' asked J'shana.

'There's a temple,' said the man. 'A temple of carved rock. It's where they are calling you—the Seven.' He gestured around them and said, 'We are Seven. We have to speak to them—and I know that you will have met at least some of them before.'

'Who are they?' asked Kajsa cautiously.

But Quill was frowning. 'A temple of carved rock,' she murmured to herself, and glanced at Shouts-at-Sun. 'Isn't that...well, what was the temple like in your dream?'

Shouts-at-Sun looked thoughtful. Then he said aloud, 'I've seen this temple before.'

The others glanced at him. 'In a dream,' Shouts-at-Sun said. 'I was drawn to it. A voice was calling to me.'

The man gave a small nod, and then said, slightly impatiently, 'We must hurry. Follow me—I'll take you there, but be on your guard. The Drainwraiths will know that the Seven have come together now. They'll be doing all they can to stop us from reaching the Temple.'

Quill and the others glanced among themselves, deciding.

At length, Alyssa said, 'Does it have something to do with finding the _Vostrunmahsille?_'

The man nodded. 'And everything else. My name is Jon.' He turned and started heading away.

'Well,' said Shouts-at-Sun, 'at least we know his name...'

'Alyssa?' Morwyn looked after him, and then walked to Alyssa's side. 'Should we follow him? I've lost clue where our tunnel is and now I really want to sleep on something hard and _doesn't_ taste like ash.'

'As do I,' Kajsa agreed. 'I hate being out in the open.'

'We all do,' Quill conceded. 'He might know where the Well of Souls is.' Or one could hope.

'But he knows, at least, where the temple is,' Shouts-at-Sun said. 'He knows what's inside of it. And he seemed to have been expecting us. I don't think it'd be wise to not follow him.'

Alyssa nodded. 'I agree, Shouts-at-Sun.' She gave a small sigh. 'Though I wonder what else could have use for us here.'

'He mentioned "the Seven",' said J'shana, sounding perplexed. 'And he made it sound as though it referred to whatever is in this Temple, and also us, the six of us, and then him. I wonder what in Nirn he's talking about.'

Morwyn shrugged. 'Guess there's only one way to find out.'

As one, they began to follow after the mysterious Jon.

* * *

The mist was thicker here, so thick that it was almost suffocating, and Kajsa struggled to see. She couldn't resist the feeling that unfriendly eyes were watching her and her companions, and just for the extra security, she kept a hand on the hilt of the Ebony Blade.

At her side paced J'shana. The Khajiit didn't look much better off.'Do you trust him?' she asked after a moment.

No prizes for who they were talking about. 'Of course not,' Kajsa responded lowly.

Jon headed the front of the group. He was walking confidently through the mist.

'I'm not sure I do, either,' said J'shana quietly. 'He hasn't...exactly given us much input on our situation.'

'I'm not surprised.' Kajsa let her own foreboding thoughts escape her. 'I bet that he's leading us into a trap.'

J'shana's eyes were puzzled. 'Really? You've been thinking that, all this time?'

Kajsa sighed. 'What else to believe? He just mysteriously turns up in the middle of battle...'

'Isn't that how we first met Morwyn and Alyssa?' J'shana countered.

Kajsa's eyes narrowed. 'I don't trust them much, either.'

'Do you trust me?'

'I'd be lying if I said yes.'

J'shana didn't look offended. She did, however, sound mildly irritated. 'Sometimes, Kajsa, you need to lower your defenses enough to get to know new people,' the Khajiit told her. 'I can understand that most likely, you've had a difficult past.' She waved a hand vaguely about the group and added, 'Nobody here has had a perfect past. For some, the past is particularly painful to remember.'

'You have that right,' Kajsa murmured, finding herself looking down.

J'shana put a hand on her shoulder and said gently, 'Hey. We're all in this together now, no matter what. I think you can trust the others. They're not so bad; they're just not ready to talk.'

Kajsa looked at the front again. 'Out of all the people I mistrust, it's her," she said flatly. "Alyssa. She has too many secrets.'

J'shana's eyes softened a little. 'I know she does,' she said. 'But maybe she's ashamed of how she got them. Give her a chance, Kajsa. She might just relax one...relax eventually, and tell us. It seems like she's already told Morwyn.'

'And yet not us?'

'I suppose Alyssa has her reasons. I mean, our families have encountered each other in the past.' J'shana's voice was thoughtful. 'Perhaps there's something in Morwyn that Alyssa feels that she can relate to.'

Kajsa gave a dry snort. 'Maybe. Only that "thing" is currently being contained in the Well of Souls.'

'And we'll get it back.' J'shana looked back up towards the front of the group. 'Jon seems to know how. I think he can help us, Kajsa.' Her voice was tinged with hope. 'And think about it this way; if Jon really was working with the Drainwraiths, and those knights, surely he wouldn't have fought so hard to defeat them for us?'

'Aren't you forgetting something, J'shana?' said Kajsa irritably. 'Those _things_ can't die. They'll just reform in the Well of Souls and come back, again and again, until we're all "harvested'.' She said the word with both disdain and fear. The icy feeling still hadn't left her. If anything, it seemed to be slowly, progressively, growing worse.

There was a distant howl, and instantly, six of the seven stiffened and drew weapon. But Jon did not. 'We're nearly there,' he said curtly, his blue eyes wandering over the mist. 'If we hurry, we'll be able to reach the Temple before they actually find us.'

'We've been walking for what feels like forever,' Morwyn told him, as she sheathed her sword. 'Are you sure you know where you're going?'

Jon merely looked at her levelly and replied, 'Positive. Trust me.'

'Trust is a hard thing to come by,' Kajsa muttered.

'But why are we actually heading there at all again?' asked Shouts-at-Sun, as they walked on.

'Because all of you want answers,' Jon replied. 'And you're all going to get answers. It's where I got mine.'

'Who told you?' asked Quill.

'The Seven.'

'But you keep calling _us_ the Seven,' said Alyssa confusedly.

'That's because we now number as the Seven,' Jon answered, sparing her an impatient glance. 'But the Seven who reside in the Temple are the keys to our success. I don't like it, but that's the way it is.'

'So let me get this straight,' said J'shana slowly. 'We are something called "the Seven" now.' Jon gave a short nod, and J'shana went on. 'And yet there is also "the Seven" in this Temple.'

'Formerly they weren't Seven,' Jon told her. 'They were Nine.'

'Wait...we're not talking about Divines, are we?' Alyssa asked quickly. 'Because that'd be impossible for them to come here!'

'Well, some called them Divines,' Jon admitted. Kajsa suddenly felt a strange sensation surround her, and by the startled expressions in the eyes of the others, guessed they were experiencing something similar. 'And yes. We're here.'

The mist began to clear the further they walked, until at last, Kajsa could make something out just ahead of them. It looked like some kind of mountain, at first, but as the mist began to clear...

'Sweet S'rendarr,' whispered J'shana.

'What is that?' Quill asked softly.

Shouts-at-Sun's eyes were thoughtful. 'It's the Temple from my dream.'

'It's the Temple where we're meant to be,' Jon said.

It was standing on the top of a hill made of earth and stone, like what it was meant to be like back at home. Kajsa stared at it. For some strange reason, it bore a curious likeness to the exterior of Skuldafn, and yet it didn't. It looked more fortress-like, with tall spires. There were strange, short, vertical stones covered in strange rune-like patterns lining the hill like the spines of a hedgehog. A greyish, worn path wound its way up to the dark tunnel-like entrance to the Temple—but what was the most curious thing about it was that the thick mist that had formerly covered everything didn't cover the hill or surround the Temple. It pressed heavily at its edges, but didn't seem to be able to go any further than where the earth started.

'How strange,' murmured Alyssa, sounding bemused. 'What _is_ this place?'

'Why isn't it covered with mist?' Morwyn queried.

Jon stomped one boot on the ground, shifting the snow. 'It's the mist that's feeding off and killing the snow,' he told the Dragonborns behind him. 'But when faced with earth and stone, it can't climb up it. I think it's because the earth and stone contain essence of the living world where the mist can't enter. We can; the defilers of this place can't. We'll be safe in the Temple.'

'Does this place, by any chance, have a Word Wall?' Morwyn asked.

Jon shook his head. 'But it has something else protecting it.'

Another echoing howl was heard—and it sounded much closer than before.

'Hurry,' said Jon, as he led the way at a swifter pace towards the Temple. Quickly, and less reluctantly, the others followed him. As they began to ascend the stony path, Kajsa felt the strange feeling she had felt before grow slightly stronger. It felt strangely more satisfying to be walking on solid ground instead of the mushy snow.

'This feels much more homely,' J'shana commented aloud.

Kajsa glanced back over her shoulder. The mist rolled around the foot of the Temple's hillock like an endless silver ocean. She heard snarls and barks echoing from within, and felt a shudder run up her spine. She wasn't going to be entering _that_ again in a hurry.

'So,' she said, glancing forward at Jon. 'We're here. Care to explain why?'

Jon glanced at her and said, 'Inside, I think you'll find the answers better than I can explain them.'

He gestured to the dark mouth of the Temple and added, 'I didn't understand at first, but it was made clear.'

Alyssa's face was set. 'Let's hope that it can be made clear for us.'

With her Cloak billowing behind her, she stepped into the dark Temple; Kajsa and the others followed.

* * *

**A/N: So, that's that! Jon, at last, joins the party - and he seems to have strange knowledge and understanding that the other Dragonborns don't. What _did_ he find in the Temple the first time he visited it? We shall find out in the next chapter - and you know what to do, lovely readers ;)**


	13. Hall of Stories

**A/N: Loyal readers, hello! Before you ask, let's just end it with a) harddrive trouble resulting in the loss of nearly all my word documents (including several non-fanfiction novels and layouts for yet-unwritten novels AND my own language!) and b) the dreaded Writer's Block. Oh, and this is a total Ty chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

It was dead silent inside. Tiberia could hear her footsteps rebounding back at her like kicks to the face. Shunting the ridiculous mental image aside, she turned to the others, blinking frustratedly. It was so dark she could hardly see in front of her, and to test her eyesight she waved her hand a few times in front of her face.

_Nope. Nothing_.

'Any light?' she inquired aloud.

Beyond, she heard Jon walking a little distance away. At least, she _thought_ it was Jon, as she sensed that Alyssa was still standing beside her.

'What _is_ this place?' asked Quill softly, coming up behind her. Tiberia heard the sounds of her companions' footsteps mixing with her own, echoing noisily within the dark Temple.

J'shana's eyes were bright in the dark. 'Odd,' she mused, half to herself.

'What's odd?' For once, Tiberia wished that she had a Khajiit's Night-Eye ability. Wouldn't it have been useful right now. 'What do you see?'

'Not much yet…' J'shana frowned into the gloom. 'But I can make out a tunnel.'

'That's it? A tunnel?' Kajsa sounded skeptical. 'Tunnels have to go somewhere, else it's a cave.'

Tiberia thought about the cave with the Word Wall and wondered if she'd ever find her way back to it.

'Well, I'm damn well not seeing a glorious palace filled with braziers,' J'shana snapped.

Alyssa gave a small groan. _Seems like her patience is getting thin as well,_ Tiberia thought.

'Where's Jon?' asked Shouts-at-Sun.

Suddenly there was a bright orange flash that lit up the interior of the chamber. Tiberia winced, bringing up a hand to shield her eyes from the sudden, painful glare. She heard the startled grunts of her companions as they mimicked her, particularly a berated hiss from J'shana. 'Couldn't you have at least _warned_ us you were going to do that?' she snapped.

Tiberia lowered her eyes (Damn it, after they had _just_ adjusted to the dark, too!) and blinked a few times. The intensity of the orange glare died a little, and by the familiar rushing sound, she knew what the source of the light was before she saw it.

'Well, it's not a glorious palace, but you got the braziers right,' she said to J'shana.

Jon was standing beside a chain lever fastened to the wall. Beside him was a brazier, suddenly brimming with bright orange flame. Tiberia frowned when she noticed markings on the wall, outlined under the tongues of fire—were those carvings, or runes of some sort? But before she could investigate it further, she heard many more rushes, echoing down the length of the tunnel. Beyond, braziers were being lit up one by one, as though the chain lever had provoked some kind of chain reaction.

'There,' he announced, waving a hand vaguely down the tunnel. 'Does that help your light problem?'

'Go die,' Tiberia muttered at him, rubbing her temple briefly.

'Whoa…' Quill's awestruck murmur attracted the others' attention. 'Have you seen what's covering the walls?'

'Damn.' Tiberia looked about her. All along the walls were…no, they weren't really runes, but they were sentences, sketchings of language, covering every inch of the stonework all down the length of the corridor. 'Clearly, this is some kind of prehistoric library,' she observed.

'_Ancient_ prehistoric, more like.' J'shana was looking curiously at a series of Draconic letting just above her furry ear tips. Her hand brushed against the base of the carvings, and she brought it away suddenly, as though surprised. 'Wow. They're carved with…with astonishing…'

'Precision?' Alyssa suggested. She had wandered to the opposite wall and stood near the brazier, her green eyes searching the carvings on the wall with a more businesslike flare to them. 'These are written as well as the carvings on a Word Wall.'

Tiberia remembered—Alyssa had studied Draconic pretty much all her life, before she took her first dragon soul in. Would she be able to read the markings on the wall? _Well, I damn well hope so!_ 'Does it say anything?' she asked, coming over.

Alyssa frowned. 'I'm making out a few things…'

'Like?'

Alyssa rolled her eyes. 'Give me a _moment_, Morwyn!'

'We don't have a moment.' The voice was Jon's, taut with impatience.

Tiberia frowned at him. 'Since when were you pack leader?'

Jon looked at her strangely, as though he were confused.

'Oh, don't tell me…' Surely, _surely_ anyone who had been a Companion would have gotten the gist of that simple statement. 'Were you Harbinger of the Companions during your time on Nirn?' Tiberia asked.

Jon frowned. 'No.'

_That settles it._ 'So apart from being Dragonborn, what else were you?' inquired Tiberia.

'Just go with it,' J'shana recommended. 'We've all shared titles.'

Jon's eyes narrowed. 'So what are yours?'

'Guildmaster,' said the five women in unison.

Well, he hadn't been expecting _that_. Jon's eyebrows shot up. 'Of the Thieves Guild?'

Tiberia snorted. 'Well, we're _not_ Guildmasters of the Guild of Multiverse Dragonborns.'

'So…' Jon looked at them. 'You were thieves?'

'And Dark Brotherhood assassin,' Quill put in.

'And Harbinger,' Tiberia added. 'And werewolf.'

He actually took a step backward at that. 'You were a werewolf thief assassin Companion?' he exclaimed. '_All_ of you?'

'None of us were werewolf-thief-assassin-Companions,' Kajsa answered. 'There's no such thing.'

'But we _were_ werewolves,' Quill said. 'Except for you, it seems, and J'shana. She never was a Companion.'

'Most of us were, though,' said Shouts-at-Sun. 'And it was a part of being a member of the Circle to be a werewolf.'

Jon's face was blank. 'Clearly, you've never experienced being a Companion, then,' said Kajsa slowly.

'Or Arch-Mage?' Tiberia suggested.

'But for us women, being thieves was our lives,' Quill said simply.

Jon's face fell into a scowl. 'So you _are_ thieves, then.'

'Nightingales, more specifically,' J'shana corrected.

'I thought they were a myth.'

Tiberia shook her head in exasperation. 'Well, we're not. What the hell were _you_ doing in Skyrim as a pastime?'

'You call being Guildmaster a _pastime?_' said Kajsa incredulously.

Tiberia snorted. 'I think we can all agree that after taking down a bastard like Alduin, anything that wasn't so related to destiny was a pastime.' She glanced back at Jon. 'So, dragon-boy, what were your hobbies after Alduin?'

Jon frowned. 'Being Jarl of Windhelm.'

Surprise flashed over the others' faces. 'What happened to Ulfric?' was the first question that Tiberia asked.

'Well…' Jon shrugged, his eyes cool. 'It's a long story.'

'We can listen. Some of us know Ulfric pretty well.' _And a little _too_ well…_

Jon sighed impatiently. 'You want a story? Fine. How I became Jarl of Windhelm? I was Windhelm's bastard heir—and I had to put my father down after Alduin.' He glared at them. 'Happy?'

Tiberia was stunned.

'Ulfric…was your father?' she said slowly.

Jon nodded. 'I'm Stormcloak.' He looked about them. 'And with you all being thieves, technically I should sentence you.'

'Oh, go ahead and _try_,' goaded J'shana. 'I dare you to!'

'Just because you're Jarl of Windhelm doesn't give you any authority to arrest us,' added Quill.

'Out of curiosity…' Tiberia folded her arms. 'What happens to thieves who get brought before the Jarl?'

'Well…' Jon brushed Kodaav's hilt. 'They have a hand taken off.'

Kajsa snorted. 'As if.' She waved her hand in front of her. 'Well, go on, then, _my lord_, take my hand off!'

Jon stared at her. 'Is she mad?'

'She shouldn't be—Morwyn has that happy role.' J'shana peered hard at Kajsa. 'Maybe it's catching.'

'Maybe I was giving Jarl Stormcloak a taste of sarcasm,' Kajsa answered, glaring at the Khajiit. 'Besides,' she added, turning back to Jon, 'I'd like to see you try and take my hand off. Ulfric certainly didn't treat me in _that_ manner when he found out I was the Guildmaster of the Riften Thieves Guild.'

Tiberia lifted her eyebrows at her. 'So what did he do?'

Kajsa shrugged. 'Fall in love with me, of course.'

Jon stared at her. 'You…fell in love with Ulfric?'

Quill struggled to hold back a smile. 'Does that make the meeting between you two a little more awkward, by any chance?'

'You have _no_ idea,' Tiberia replied.

'So…' Shouts-at-Sun looked curiously between Kajsa and Jon. 'Wouldn't that technically make you two mother and son?'

'Oh-my-Gods, Kajsa!' J'shana rested a hand on Kajsa's shoulder and exclaimed, 'You have a son! You have a _son! _Why didn't you _tell_ us that you were expecting?'

'_Expecting?!_' Kajsa wheeled around on her. 'I was not expecting _him!_'

'My mother was Alea,' frowned Jon, not amused by the joke.

Tiberia glanced at Jon, and was startled when she could see the similarities between him and Ulfric's bastard child from her Certainty, something about the stubborn set of the jaw and slant to the eyes.

'Still keen on chopping off your mother's hand, Stormcloak?' asked Quill, grinning.

Jon glared at her. 'Maybe _yours_.'

Quill's left hand abruptly sprouted a thin and dangerous weapon. 'Try me,' she suggested.

'Okay, enough on the nobility titles,' said Shouts-at-Sun, flicking his tail impatiently. 'Don't forget that these are just Certainties. Anything could have happened in them—and it varies for _all_ of us.'

_Of course it does, but some things are still similar._ 'Besides, _my Jarl_,' Tiberia added, 'your title as Stormcloak doesn't really compare to the title of Heir to the Dragon Throne.'

Jon stared at her in astonishment. 'What? _You?_ Heir to the throne?'

'Of course not, pea-brain,' Tiberia retorted, bristling at the tone to his voice. 'You'd be surprised at what I would have been the heir of!' She gestured her thumb at Alyssa, who was still studying the carvings and had hardly said a word throughout the entire conversation. 'She has _that_ happy role of being a Septim heir.'

'I thought _I_ was the one to dish out the happy roles!' J'shana protested.

'Here we go again,' muttered Kajsa.

'I'll stand by,' Shouts-at-Sun offered.

Jon looked between them. 'You're all mad,' he said flatly.

'You think?' Kajsa quirked a brow. 'And guess who's to blame for it?'

Tiberia did a little bow. 'Charmed,' she said in an all-too-familiar accent akin to Brynjolf's.

Even Alyssa turned and grinned at that. Jon, naturally, didn't get it.

'They didn't tell me that there was a madwoman,' he muttered, half to himself.

'They?' Tiberia repeated, still in the accent. '_They?_ Who's _they_, may I ask? Oh…' She clapped herself on the forehead. 'Why do I ask myself permission to speak? Or did I speak to ask permission? I _never_ get that part right…' She could hear the other Dragonborns fighting back laughs behind her. 'But in any case, you'd best be a little clearer with your words, mortal, else you'll be getting into a whole lot of trouble…and out come the intestines!'

'What?' Jon looked confusedly at her. 'What is _with_ you?' he growled.

Tiberia groaned and dropped the accent. 'You have _no_ sense of humour,' she told him. 'And it was hard enough getting _her_ to lighten up!' She gestured to Alyssa.

'Me, lighten up?' Alyssa turned around and frowned sternly at Tiberia. 'Did you even _hear_ yourself when we first met?'

Tiberia shrugged. 'Hey—I was exhausted!' she defended.

'Whatever. In the meantime, you'll be glad to know I've made a bit of sense out of some of this Draconic.'

'Really?' Interest drew the others in.

Alyssa tapped some of the runes. 'This here,' she said slowly, 'it reads "Dragonborn fall", or _Dovahkiin mah_. And beside it…' She moved towards the brazier and gestured to more of the Draconic carvings. 'It says, "Rise as One against the sleeping Enemy".'

'You can actually translate those carvings?' Jon sounded puzzled.

Alyssa shot him a glance. 'And here was I thinking that you knew everything about us,' she said lightly. 'Particularly with that impressive display of Draconic knowledge you showed off during our last battle.' She frowned. 'And that was _my_ battle taunt. Make up your own.'

'Apologies if I offended, _my Lady_,' said Jon.

Alyssa narrowed her eyes at him. 'Best remember your place, _my Lord_.'

'Hey.' Tiberia frowned at Jon. 'I already have the role of being her personal irritator.'

Alyssa rolled her eyes. 'Do you want to hear the rest?'

'There's more?' asked Shouts-at-Sun.

'Oh, there's more, all right.' Alyssa stepped back and gestured to the tunnel walls. 'Have you actually _seen_ what's lining the walls? Draconic, everywhere! And then there's more than that, too…'

'Wait…there's _Daedric_ there?' _How in Azura's name did I _miss_ that?!_ Tiberia strode towards the nearest wall.

'Of course,' she heard Jon mutter behind her. 'The Dark Elf…'

Tiberia halted. 'And what do I have to do with anything?' she inquired coolly.

'Maybe it's because you're the only one who can read Daedric here,' suggested Quill.

'But why Draconic and Daedric?' wondered J'shana. 'If it's playing to all of Tamriel's languages, surely Ta'agra would be there as well?'

'Or Jel?' frowned Shouts-at-Sun.

'Ta'agra and Jel were more oral languages,' said Kajsa. 'They weren't usually written down.'

'So why isn't Tamrielic here?' asked Quill.

Tiberia, meanwhile, was investigating the Daedric. It was written in places beneath the dominant Draconic.

But it said pretty much the same thing Alyssa had just said aloud, only that it was in greater detail.

_Seven Dragonborn fall, but will Rise as One against the sleeping Enemy._

Tiberia frowned. 'What the heck does this mean?'

She straightened, hardly aware she had been stooping (though by the ache now clutching at her spine, she sorely regretted not being aware). 'Some kind of prophecy,' she announced to her audience. 'But it's not the one that we've already got.'

'Prophecy?' echoed Shouts-at-Sun. 'What prophecy?'

'The one about the _Vostrunmahsille_,' Kajsa remembered. 'How did it go again?'

'_Yah faal Dovahkiinne; Kosvahlok faal Yuvon Dovah; Siiv faal Vostrunmahsille,_' Tiberia said. The prophecy _still_ hadn't completely left her mind, even though it was entirely in a language that now felt strange and foreign to her. Which was strange, considering that she last remembered her life being entirely involved with dragons and language, especially after the Fire of Mercy.

Alyssa frowned. 'We understand some of it already,' she said. '_Yah faal Dovahkiinne_; seek the Dragonborns.' She looked about her. 'And by the constant referencing to the number seven, we seem to all have come together.'

Jon nodded. 'We have.'

'But _Kosavhlok faal Yuvon Dovah_…' Alyssa frowned. 'Something Akatosh…what would he have anything to do with us? Gods can't access the borderland realm!'

Tiberia lifted the corner of her brow. 'That bit's still…what was that word again? For incomprehensible…'

'_Vanmidoraan_,' said Alyssa absently. 'But we know that in the end, we have to find the _Vostrunmahsille_. The Well of Souls.'

'Which we've already seen, may I add,' J'shana put in.

'But can't remember the exact location of,' muttered Kajsa.

Shouts-at-Sun looked between them. 'You two are like two sides of a coin,' he commented. 'Positive and negative.'

'Yeah, well, opposites attract,' said Kajsa ruefully.

'_Going_ back to the subject of the Well of Souls,' interrupted Jon, sparing them an award-winning impatient look, 'I believe that the Seven—the Seven who reside in the heart of the Temple—may know how to find the _Vostrunmahsille_ and access it to complete that prophecy.' He shrugged. 'They'll have far more answers than I would.'

'Remind me…who are the Seven?' asked Alyssa. 'Us, or them?'

'In a way, both,' Jon replied. 'But they will have answers.' He turned away. 'So long as we actually _get_ to them at all.'

Alyssa snorted, but she sounded amused. 'Impatient, isn't he?'

'I'd say.' Kajsa narrowed her eyes at him, but there was a smirk on her face. 'I can definitely see the family resemblance…'

'You don't know the half of it,' said Tiberia, arching her brow.

'Out of curiosity,' said Shouts-at-Sun, 'how many of you sided with the Stormcloaks if you ever did the civil war in your Certainties?'

'Never got there,' said Quill.

'We did,' said Alyssa, glancing briefly at Tiberia. 'And so did Kajsa.'

'Same here,' J'shana put in.

Shouts-at-Sun lifted the corner of his horned brow. 'So you all were Stormcloak supporters?'

'Not always to the very end,' frowned Tiberia.

'And what side did you take?' asked Alyssa.

Shouts-at-Sun shrugged. 'I didn't really choose a side. The war started to resolve itself on its own, without my help.'

'If only everything was that simple,' groaned Quill.

'And what d'you reckon about that Stormcloak?' Kajsa nodded towards Jon, who had paused a little way ahead and was gazing thoughtfully at some carving embedded in the tunnel walls. 'Did he side with his father's armies or the Legion?'

J'shana rolled her eyes. 'Clearly, he'd side with his father.'

Tiberia glanced at her. 'What makes you say that? Parents and children don't always get along.' _Take me and _my_ family_…

'Well, it'd make more sense for him to join with his father's forces than go with his father's haters,' J'shana pointed out.

Alyssa frowned. 'Or, maybe, he hated his father.'

'He'd have to have been with the Legion to have killed Ulfric, remember,' Shouts-at-Sun pointed out.

'Not always,' Tiberia retorted.

'Hey…' Quill had drifted away from the conversation, but she attracted their attention with one soft-spoken word, bright with puzzlement. She glanced back at them and said, 'I think you guys should see this.' She was standing beside a wall, just opposite Jon, crouched down beside a brazier and gazing, fascinated, at a carving near the ground.

'What is it?' Glad to get away from the conversation, Tiberia was the first to head over.

'Look.' Quill tapped the carving. 'Doesn't that look familiar?'

Tiberia crouched down. She frowned. 'What the…?'

'What is it?' The others had come up behind her.

'Helgen,' Tiberia replied, confused herself. It was Helgen, a scene that she remembered well, and was certain several others would remember clearly as well. But the haunting thing was that the carving had been done with astonishing precision—every tiny detail, every minute miscellaneous, had been sketched clearly into the stone, so realistically that she swore that she could almost feel the heat of the rushing flames again, the roar of Alduin as he circled above the burning town, the screams of dying men and women and the snap and twing of arrows and blades…

Tiberia frowned. 'Are you guys seeing this?'

'Crystal.' Suddenly Kajsa dropped down beside Tiberia and muttered in growing confusion, 'Wait a moment…is…is that _me_?'

'Where?'

'Jumping from the tower into the burning inn…'

Tiberia glanced towards the crumbled-in tower that she remembered she had been pulled into shortly after Ralof had dragged her up from beside the headsman's block, that Alduin had stuck his snout through and scorched the interior. She had made the leap from tower to inn in an effort to continue the escape…

Then she saw. A woman who bore eerie likeness to Kajsa was jumping from the tower into the inn—her eyes were wide with growing alarm, a fear that she wasn't going to make the jump. Her hair, braided back in the Nordic way, flew over her shoulders, outlining her face with the high cheekbones and slightly pointed chin.

'What in Oblivion are you doing on the wall?' inquired Tiberia.

Kajsa frowned at her. 'How should I know?'

'Well, they've done a good sketch of you,' said Quill.

'But why am _I_ on the wall?' Kajsa extended a hand curiously towards the carvings, and then stiffened. 'What the…the _hell?_'

'What is it?' asked Shouts-at-Sun.

'The whispering…can't you hear it?'

'Whispering?' echoed Alyssa.

Kajsa seemed in a trance. Her hand gently touched the stone—and suddenly the carvings lit up. The other Dragonborns leapt backwards instinctively but Kajsa didn't move. She didn't even blink.

'Now what?' Tiberia asked, as she straightened.

'What's happening?' J'shana frowned.

'Hang on…doesn't that look familiar?' Quill glanced at Kajsa, at the glowing carvings. They had taken on a familiar bluish sheen, Tiberia realized.

'Whispering,' muttered Alyssa. '_Whispering_.'

'Just like a Word Wall,' realized Shouts-at-Sun.

'But what is it giving her?' wondered Quill.

'Hey, Morwyn!' Tiberia glanced over her shoulder to see J'shana standing a little way back down the tunnel, near the entrance. 'I think this is yours.'

_Mine?_ 'My what?' But she had a sense that she already knew what it was going to be as she made her way over to J'shana's side.

J'shana gestured to the carving with her tail. 'Do you hear it?' she asked. 'Any whispering?'

Tiberia frowned. She stopped and listened…and after a few moments…

'Yeah, I hear them,' she muttered, leaning near the carving. She could hear the whispering that Kajsa had been hearing with hers…a gentle chanting pattern, repeating some incomprehensible phrase over and over in her head, emanating from, it seemed, the core of the image that she was crouching in front of.

_Weird_. They sounded Draconic, yet as unfathomable as the Draconic the voices spoke. Just echoes of a sleeping power that was stirring as a Dragonborn drew near. But Tiberia guessed that this wasn't some kind of sleeping power…this was something else…

She looked at herself, carved with stunning reality on the stone wall.

'Someone's _good_ with a chisel here,' she muttered.

'I'd say,' J'shana agreed, and glanced over her shoulder. 'Think there's one of all of us here?'

'Possibly.' Tiberia wasn't really focusing on what was happening around her, though—more what was happening in front of her. Because something _really_ tripsy was starting to happen, kind of like Daedric magic...only the carving was starting to _glow_, much like Kajsa's had done, kind of like Dragon magic...but neither had any influence in this place...right?

_"I said," the Captain shouted testily, "next prisoner!"_

_"To the block, prisoner," said her lieutenant, the poor sod who promised to return my remains to Morrowind. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was probably for the best that I be buried in Cyrodiil, or even here in Skyrim. "Nice and easy."_

_I didn't move. Instead, I cocked my head and stared her down with a fire-eyed stare._

_"I said…" the Captain began to growl._

_"Or what," I spoke over her, my voice deadly calm, "you'll kill me?"_

_The woman let out a wordless howl of frustration, then stomped over to where I stood and yanked me by the scruff of the neck to drag me bodily towards the block. I twisted suddenly and sank my teeth into the hand gripping my neck. The Captain yelped in pain and released me. I smirked in reply. The lieutenant was beside his Captain in an instant, holding me down even as I continued struggling. A few of the Stormcloaks behind me actually whooped to cheer me on._

_The lieutenant managed to get me over to the block, and with the executioner's help, I was slammed onto the stone. I did my best to ignore the fact that the head from the soldier before me was sitting just a few inches below my face. The executioner's foot was then placed in the small of my back; there was no way in Oblivion I'd be getting out of this one (if you'll pardon the pun)._

_So I turned my head to stare down death in the eyes. The headsman raised his axe high over his head, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw something big and black swoop in over the tower behind him. Was that a Cliff-Racer? No, it was too big, and plus, those things don't live in Skyrim anyhow. The subsequent roar—akin to what we'd been hearing all morning—and hard landing on top of the tower knocked the two-handed monstrosity out of the headsman's hands._

_Suddenly the sky was purplish-black, and the clouds were rotating. I heard the rasp of swords being drawn and the twang of arrows being knocked back. Something was so very wrong, here, but I wasn't about to question my good fortune. I jumped to my feet, though I was disoriented as anyone and stumbled over the block. (I tried not to think on that one too hard.)_

_"Looks like it's your lucky day, Dark Elf," laughed the Nord who'd been talking with me earlier, on the wagon. "Get behind me!"_

_"Why are your hands unbound?" I grumbled as we both took off running across the decimated courtyard. From the laugh I heard after, I think he heard me._

_We took shelter in one of the guard towers, where several of his brothers-in-arms were already gathered. This Nord, the one from before, he sounded so terrified. "What is that, Jarl Ulfric? Can the legends be true?"_

_"Legends," growled the burly blond Nord he'd been referring to, "don't burn down villages."_

_I only just refrained from mentioning Mehrunes Dagon and the Oblivion Crisis._

_"We need to move, now!" someone shouted. (Really, all Nord men sound about the same to me.) "Up the tower, go!"_

_I began climbing the stairs with the rest of them, only to be physically pushed back by the first Nord, the one from the wagon, when part of the wall collapsed inwards. The hole was then plugged by the head of a large, black beast that promptly spat fire into the tower. The Nord holding me back jerked me back a little farther at this turn of events. "By the Nine," he murmured._

_"Sheogorath's balls," I agreed._

_The fire receded, and so did the dragon, leaving a gaping hole in the side of the tower and debris blocking our way up. "You see that, on the other side?" He pointed across the way. "Jump through, and keep going! I'll meet you on the other side!"_

_"Hands!?" I called after him as he bolted back down the stairs, bringing my bound wrists up in front of my face, but he was too far away to hear me._

_I glanced across the wide gap again, and apprehension (no, definitely not fear…) settled in my gut. A still-burning tree or something had fallen across the roof of what appeared to be the inn in town. It was a sizable gap, too. But the alternative was being forever stuck in this town, or worse, deep-fried and eaten by that dragon from earlier._

_Also—holy Azura's gutter-dwelling ghost, a dragon._

_I drew in a deep breath, and the soot and ash filling the air was almost calming. It smelled like home, like Morrowind. I took a few steps back, drew in another shaky breath, and then went for it. I pushed off from solid stone and leapt across the chasm, and for a moment, there was nothing in the world but the air whooshing past my face._

_Then I landed—hard—on the wooden floor of the inn. I hissed in pain as my knees buckled beneath me, as burning embers caught in my hair and fizzled out. My braid was falling out, hair flying everywhere, and my face was streaked with ash and soot, but dammit, I was alive. I rose unsteadily to my feet, and glanced about for something to cut these damnable bonds with. But, finding none, I settled for finding a way out of this place before the whole thing went crashing down over my head._

_I took off running, and I didn't look back. Had I, I would have seen the great, black form of Alduin the World-Eater setting the world ablaze._

Damn it, Tiberia thought as she yanked her consciousness from her somewhat self-induced stupor. That memory was _old_.

Her head was pounding a little. She rubbed her brow impatiently as she stood up, and by the way her knees protested, she had been crouched for a long time. Well, for a while. There _was_ no time in this place!

She looked around as she heard a faint moan issue from someone nearby. Then her eyes widened and her breath caught.

The other Dragonborns were stepping backwards from their respective carvings. Clearly, all of them were imprinted on the walls. Even Jon had gone over to investigate his own more closely, his black brow furrowed to cast his deep blue eyes into shadow. But suddenly, all the carvings of Helgen were glowing. Whispers filled the air that was starting to tremble and chill much like Skyrim's frosty temperatures. A faintly familiar breeze drifted through the length of the stone-carven tunnel. But instead of glowing blue, they had suddenly changed to purple, then to black, then to white...and then to a deep, pulsating gold and blue and dark orange, the colours of a _dovahsil_, dragon-soul.

What?! Tiberia nearly clocked herself on the head. Draconic? The...how...?

'What's happening?' Quill's startled yelp summed up what everyone was thinking.

Alyssa's face was very pale. 'Do you...do you guys _feel_ it?'

'The...the dragon's energies?' Tiberia dared to suggest.

Shouts-at-Sun nodded emphatically. 'It was...it was almost like absorbing a dragon's soul...'

'Draconic,' J'shana said, swishing her tail. 'I can speak some again! _Dovah__. _Dragon. It means dragon!'

But Tiberia had a feeling that that wasn't the only bit of Draconic she had absorbed (remembered? unlocked?). As the image of a too-familiar, very large black scaly head being thrust through solid stone and torching the inside of the tower played once again in her head, so too did three achingly memorable words.

'_Yol toor shul,_' she muttered. As she uttered the words, she felt the smallest of twinges inside her chest.

'The Fire Thu'um,' said Kajsa in surprise.

'Alduin said it,' Tiberia defended. 'I can...I can remember it again.' Recalling she had been able to shout (mortally shout, mind) the incantations when she had first come here...it hadn't provoked some kind of inner reaction. That twinge, that damn _twinge_, it meant something. It was like she had been prodded while she had been asleep, and was vaguely roused before slipping back into Vaermina's realm.

Alyssa's brow creased, and immediately turned to a (once again) mute Jon. 'Explain.'

'I don't know.' Jon sounded honestly perplexed. 'It didn't happen the first time...'

'Well, whatever it was...' Kajsa folded her arms over her armoured chest. 'Is there more of it? These...carvings? Memories?'

'There's heaps. All down the tunnel.'

As though his words had been one of some mystical invocation, an icy breeze swept through the passageway, striking the seven Dragonborns. As it did, Tiberia's nose twitched; a faintly familiar scent was clinging to the wind. She frowned. _Ash...decay...fire...and magic. Dragon's magic. If not for that, it might as well be Red Mountain fire..._

'Scent of a dragon's soul,' reported J'shana, her whiskers quivering. 'Just like...'

'...what came off the carvings, right?' interrupted Quill.

'It's not just a dragon's soul you're smelling,' said Jon, with a slight frown, and once again wearing that infuriating perplexed expression.

'For once I agree with you, Stormcloak,' Tiberia told him, unable to resist the disdainful quaver in her voice. 'I know of only one dragon soul that stunk to high Aetherius of decay.' Then she halted at the sudden impact of her words.

'Oh, _gjok_,' Alyssa swore, slipping absently into the dragon's tongue.

The four others stiffened. Then their eyes narrowed, and hands rested on hilts of weapons. 'Is this why you brought us here?' snarled Kajsa, whisking the Ebony Blade from its sheath and leveling it at Jon. 'A false Dragonborn, one who served _him_ in life instead of destroying him?'

Jon's eyes widened. 'What?! No! No, it's not who you think!'

'Then _who?!_' If Tiberia wasn't mistaken, the very faintest hint of a Thu'um was momentarily heard behind Kajsa's words.

Jon's eyes narrowed, and very cautiously, he lowered Kajsa's Blade.

'It is _not_ Alduin,' he snarled.

Alyssa's eyes were steely as she said softly, 'How can you be sure?'

It was at that moment that the wind returned, but this time it bore a husky, guttural voice as well. And one that was distantly (and hauntingly) familiar to Tiberia—and to the others as well.

_Do not be afraid in our presences, Banes of Fate._

Tiberia's first reaction, naturally, was to yank the Ebony Sword of the Blaze from its sheath at her side, followed by Alyssa's Hidden Blades to spring out of hiding, Quill to tug out her Nightingale Blade, Shouts-at-Sun and J'shana to raise their ranged artillery and Kajsa to immediately heft the Ebony Blade into a defensive position. Only Jon did not move.

'You,' shouted Tiberia down the tunnel to whoever the hell had spoken, 'sound _exactly_ like a long-dead corpse should!'

'Draugr,' growled Quill in agreement.

There was a rasping chuckle, and then the voices returned. _Draugr? _It sounded faintly amused. _No, we are far, far more than Draugr. No, we are the vahlokke, the guardians, of this Temple, and the zeymahhe, brothers, who have been gruti, betrayed, by their own._

Alyssa's voice was a very soft snarl, almost feral, like the wolf she once had been. 'So who are you, then?'

The breeze whispered a third time. And as it came rushing up the tunnel, Tiberia watched as every single carving down the length of the tunnel ignited, as though it was being set aflame. Suddenly the fire in the braziers wasn't the only light needed for the passageway any longer. She stiffened in pure curiosity, the Blade lowering a little in her hand, as she started to hear voices that were distinctly familiar...all slurred into one endless, ever-changing sound...

_'...Merciful Talos, you've _got_ to be joking!...'_

_'Hello, sister dear!...We really _must_ catch up soon—but not while I'm running for my life, please!...'_

_'Here's hoping you _dovah_ can swim...'_

_'And I was like, "Nah, I'm fine guys. Really, I—" And that's when I walked into a doorframe...'_

_'...I'll see you in Sovngarde, my friend...'_

Tiberia balked when she recognized her own amidst the masses. _Gods,_ she thought mutely. _The very words I uttered before...before..._

'I'm guessing you can also hear these rogue whispers?' she muttered aloud to nobody in particular. Despite this she got a strangely enthusiastic response.

'Memories,' Alyssa muttered. One hand went up on the pretense of fumbling with the hem of her hood as she spoke, conveniently brushing over one eye.

_That we have preserved from your stolen_ dovahsille, hissed the voices. _And which we return now to you, a gift we give freely._

'Since when do we get stuff the easy way?' muttered Kajsa, still hostile despite herself.

'Since now, it seems.' Jon shook his head slightly, as though to clear a bad memory from his head, before he began to walk down the tunnel. Thin strands of light began to coil around him as he progressed deeper into the Temple. 'And we had better not keep them waiting. The Temple's stirring.' He spoke as though the knowledge had only just come to him.

'Stirring?' frowned Tiberia. 'You mean...like...waking up?'

'Yes.' A very loud crack of thunder was heard beyond, though Jon hardly turned. His eyes seemed grey with an odd weariness Tiberia would've bet her Ebony Sword of the Blaze on it had something to do with a memory in his Certainty. 'Our memories are waking up. So is the menace. So are the guardians of the Temple.'

'Guardians,' interjected Alyssa, 'or makers? Carvers? They made the Temple, didn't they?'

Jon didn't answer. The others had the sense to follow on behind with growing and uncertain impatience.

* * *

**A/N: A few things to say: The excerpt of Ty's memory was not written by me, but by Ty's authorette. Secondly, this took FOREVER to write. I intended for them to actually meet these confounded voices in this chapter! But no, looks like it'll have to go on a little while yet WITHOUT them. I wanted to try and elaborate a little more on the (awkward?) dialogue between the characters. So I hope that I did well. Plus, this is an entire Tiberia chapter, which I'm proud of nonetheless!**

**Fortunately, this long break has given me plenty of ideas as 1. how to end the story, 2. what to include during their journey to the Vostrunmahsille, 3. new allies, new friends, old and familiar places and Dovahkiins who might be making the odd entrance! If you know someone who wants their Dragonborn to have a moment in the spotlight do tell them or make a request yerself!**

**PS it was my bday yesterday too...another excuse...**


	14. Unveiling the Links

**A/N: Hey guys! OK, sorry, you won't actually be SEEING the Seven in the Temple in this chapter, but you'll be HEARING from them a lot *nudge nudge BrunetteAuthorette99* in this one. Also, I'll be introducing more Dragonborns into the story - readers, you are welcome to submit your Dovahkiinne, or tell your friends to submit theirs. I want to see how many can be included in this Dragonborn-united tale! And also, we get a little more on prophecy, too...now, in the start, may we introduce the heroine of A Heart Stolen By Vampires, whose authorette is moonflower04! Yes, I'm sure you'll all know who it is...**

**Onward.**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

A long, loud and darkly promising howl broke into Arela's already jumbled thoughts. She stifled a whimper, whirling around and nearly tripping over her own feet in the mushiness under her in her haste to try and see those horrid ghost-like creatures. She pulled out an arrow from her quiver and set it to the string of her bow, taking a small comfort out of that simple act alone.

After a few moments, she heard the shriek again. It was louder, and drawing nearer.

_They're coming,_ Arela told herself, as calmly as she could manage.

She raised the bow above her and aimed, peering into the swirling greyness. After a few moments, she became aware of pattering paws, and soft, husky snarls. Arela hesitated. She listened intently, counting out the distinct patterns. In the thick mist, that each passing moment seemed to grow thicker and darker like the rippling sky above, she counted at least seven, eight sets of paws.

_Damn it._ Arela's heart started to pound twice as fast in her throat. _Damn it, damn it..._

There were too many for her to take on. She was far too outnumbered. There was only one thing that she could do...if she fought, she'd die. If she ran...well...

Arela heard the breathing slow. The pawsteps cease. She couldn't suppress that feeling of danger, rising around her like the fumes from the crevasses in Eastmarch tundra. Well, maybe not quite like that...she had no idea why she was being so ludicrously poetic in those few sparse moments before her most likely death.

_Is it even possible to die after death?_ she wondered vaguely to herself.

Thunder suddenly roared above her, a clap so strong that it even sent vibrations running through the ground. Arela stumbled, trying not to lose her balance. She briefly looked up at the churning skies—clouds could be seen tumbling and rolling at a dizzying speed across the background, which was becoming heavier and heavier.

She didn't understand. What was happening to this place? To Pass?

Yes, she knew what this plane was called. Arela's attention snapped back downward as the phantom creatures, one by one, began to creep out from the mist, forming a terrifying pack facing and flanking her. She slowly began to step backwards, and just as slowly, they began to stalk forwards.

Hastily she tried to recollect her memories from her first visit here. What had Akatosh said about it? It was the in-between. A borderland realm. The plane between life and death, good and evil, and the centre of all things divided.

But at the moment, everything was out of kilter. It wasn't a neutral territory. It was a place much like any plane of Oblivion would be. It had more danger than safety, and danger at all...everything felt more dead than alive and the landscape was more changeable than unchangeable. The beasts were growing in number. And they were very intent on killing her. Each time they landed a bite, she always felt weakened, as though poisoned. She always felt a little emptier...a little less...complete.

And worse...she couldn't Shout. The dragonblood that had flowed in her veins from the day of her birth...it was gone, or dormant, or _something_...whatever was happening to Pass, it had drained her abilities from the very start. Without the Voice to defend herself, Arela felt extremely vulnerable.

_Can Akatosh reach me here?_ she thought desperately. _To help me, like he did before?_

Suddenly, the creatures moved—they raced towards her at a terrifying speed. Arela instinctively loosed her arrow. It shot through the air and buried itself into the creature's throat. It fell with a torn whimper and vanished. One down, six to go. Arela backtracked hastily, yanking another arrow from its quiver, but before she could even set it to the string they were on her.

She thrust upward with the arrow. It drove through the heart of one creature looming directly over her. Two down. But by then Arela sensed it was too late. The creatures took only a moment to leer over her before their fangs drove down.

Suddenly there was excruciating pain in her arm. Arela screamed, writhing frantically under their jaws. A tide of terrible coldness flooded through her, clutching at her chest, her throat, her wildly-beating heart...

And abruptly the creature that had bitten her was shot through the back of the head with a large crossbow bolt.

The other beasts hesitated, emitting a slightly-puzzled growl. But before they moved, a second bolt came flying, striking another. Suddenly aware they were under attack, they whirled around and went charging away.

Arela didn't move. She could feel a part of her slipping away. A greyish energy was restored to her but she still felt very cold, as though she was suffering from the worst bout of Bone Break Fever that she had ever had. She was hardly aware of the metallic twang of a crossbow, or the shrieks and howls and unworldly screams of the dying beasts...she just wanted to sleep. The bow slipped from her fingers and silently sank a little into the ashen snow.

She grasped as tightly as she could onto what consciousness she was aware she still possessed. It was just enough for her to hear treading footsteps over the ground, approaching her at a swift pace, accompanied with the faintest rattle of metal that belonged to armour or weapons or both. Then a shadow fell across her vision and two gloved fingers gently rested at her neck, checking for a pulse.

Arela wasn't sure whether this newcomer was a friend or foe, and for a moment, terror held her still. She had seen knight-like characters sometimes, stalking through the ashen fields of tormented Pass, but they didn't seem to be affected by her weapons. She, however, was still prone to theirs, as she had found out soon enough, and they were allies with those phantom wolves.

But after a second, she heard a distinctly Elven voice murmur, 'Hey...fellow. Are you all right? Are you alive? Can you hear me?'

Elven...maybe even a Dark Elf? Arela tried to speak, sensing that he wasn't an immediate enemy—to tell the truth, she was relieved to hear a voice that wasn't promising to murder her—but she hardly had strength to breathe, let alone form words on a tongue heavy as lead.

The person beside her adjusted their position, and then Arela felt herself being lifted up into the Elf's arms. The hand then went to her head, checking her temperature, and the figure immediately swore in Dunmeris. _Definitely a Dark Elf, then,_ Arela thought.

There was a brief pause. The person seemed to be wondering what to do next. Then Arela heard something heavy being pushed gingerly off his hand, to thud on the snow beside him a moment later. Then something warm, and oddly familiar to the touch, gently brushed a few stray strands of hair away and lower to her cheek.

The warmth was enough. Arela felt a little energy come back to her, enough to open her eyes to meet those of her supposed saviour. At first, everything was distinctly blurry, and then she became aware that she was looking into a pair of glowing ember-coloured eyes, only just visible beneath a worn sand-coloured hood, peering out of a pale, lined and sharply-angled face the colour of pale silver ash. The person also had a scruffy and black-bearded chin.

'Can you hear me?' the Dark Elf asked.

Arela nodded weakly.

'Good.' He blinked his fiery eyes and said, 'Now, who are you?'

Arela frowned blearily. She tried to speak, but she still felt so tired.

The Elf frowned for a moment. He looked carefully into her eyes. Then his hand suddenly went down to the side of her neck. Arela stiffened, suddenly terrified for her own welfare. His two fingers were suddenly pressing against two old fang scars against her throat, and he was frowning.

'Arela,' he said, and the simple act of hearing her own name spoken from a stranger's mouth made Arela stare at him in total bewilderment. How had he known? But then the Elf glanced at her and said, 'Your name is Arela, yes?'

Arela slowly nodded. Strangely, his touch on the scars was hot, and she suddenly found that she had the strength to speak. 'How'd...how'd you know?'

'Oh come now,' said the stranger, though he sounded relieved to hear her voice. 'You and I are the same, clearly.' He moved his hand away from her throat and to his own, brushing aside the lower rim of the hood enough to display the side of his neck. Arela's eyes widened in amazement when she saw two very familiar scars in place beneath his jaw.

'You're a vampire too?' Arela whispered.

The Dark Elf nodded. 'Of course. I served Harkon's court for a little while.'

'The...the same with me,' Arela choked. She frowned suddenly. 'Are you...are you Garan?'

'Garan?' The Dunmer was startled. 'No, of course not! Why would I be Garan?'

'Sorry,' Arela apologized. 'You...it's just...'

'I know Garan,' said the Dark Elf. 'And he knows me. We are definitely not alike, even if we are Brother Elves.' He frowned. 'Besides, we've never met until now. I know all the members of the court of the Castle, and I don't recall your face amongst the crowd.'

'Nor you,' Arela breathed.

'Can you sit up?'

'I think so.'

She still felt shaky and drained, but she could, at least, stay relatively upright on her own without the stranger's assistance. He knelt beside her nonetheless, pulling his gauntlet back over his hand, and resting his loaded crossbow lightly over his lap.

After a moment, Arela asked, 'What's your name?'

The Dark Elf looked at her closely for a few moments, before he answered, 'Serrah. I'm Serrah.'

'Nice to meet you.'

'Likewise.'

'But...pardon my asking...' Arela frowned a little. 'Don't Dark Elves usually...'

'What?' Serrah interrupted. 'Have a family name?' At Arela's nod, he shrugged. 'I do have a family name, but I don't want to share it. I have no family left, save for Volkihar, but since it wasn't my flesh-and-blood family name, I don't use it. It's just Serrah.'

'Okay.'

'And you? You have a family name?'

'Snow-Strider, but I hardly ever use it.'

'Good name for a Nord,' Serrah shrugged. 'But since we hardly ever use our surnames, I guess we're equals in that retrospect.'

'Yes. I suppose.'

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Arela felt recovered enough to grab her bow and rest it over her lap. But she couldn't stop this burning curiosity she had about this Dunmeri vampire, Serrah. Who was he, really? What had he done? How come she had never met him before, if he served in the Castle court?

Her eyes drifted down to his crossbow. She frowned.

'Where'd you get that?'

Serrah followed her eyes. He shrugged and rested his hand lightly over the hilt of the crossbow and said, 'Gift from Isran after I started training, obviously.'

Arela was stunned. 'At Fort Dawnguard?'

Serrah nodded. His brow creased.

'I trained there for the best of three months before I finally went out on my first mission,' he said. 'It was pretty shit there. I was the only Dark Elf in the vicinity and I was always teased because I had the weirdest face a Dunmer could possibly have.' He sighed. 'Sometimes I wondered what I was even doing in the Fort, to be honest.'

'When did you join?' asked Arela curiously. 'I was with the Dawnguard for a month or two before I became a member of Harkon's court. Me and my brother both did.'

Serrah smiled a little at this. 'At least you weren't alone there.'

Arela snorted. 'I wouldn't be so sure. It was dull over in the Fort. Best thing about that place was the hot food and warm fires.'

'Isn't that always the best thing in Skyrim?' Serrah sighed. 'And in answer to your question earlier, I joined some time in Year 199 of the Fourth Era.'

Arela's eyes widened. 'You were before me by quite a few years.'

Serrah shrugged. 'Must be why we never met.'

'But we did both become vampires,' Arela pointed out. She sat up a little more. 'Out of curiosity...who turned you?'

Serrah sighed. 'Damn my curiosity sometimes,' he said. 'Harkon's bite was rough.'

Arela's eyes widened. 'What? You were bitten by Harkon?'

Serrah nodded, and his frown became that much deeper. 'You sound shocked.'

'But I was bitten by Harkon as well!'

His turn to be shocked. 'What in Oblivion...?'

Arela sat up a little more at this. 'Harkon never mentioned you...'

'Or you to me...' Serrah rubbed the back of his hooded head in total bemusement.

A shrieking cry rang out over the desolate landscape and instantly Serrah pushed himself to his feet, hefting his crossbow. Arela climbed more unsteadily to her feet, but she was pumped with a rush of adrenalin. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and knocked it to the bowstring.

After a few moments, she asked the Dark Elf vampire quietly, 'What the hell are they?'

'I don't know.' Serrah's voice was grim. 'But they never end. They always find us in this Gods-forsaken landscape...'

'Pass,' interjected Arela quietly. 'This place is Pass.'

The Dunmer spared her a puzzled glance. Arela frowned. Hadn't he heard of this place before?

'I've been here once,' she murmured to him in answer.

But before they could say anything else, a figure abruptly burst from the fog, emitting a terrified wailing cry as she did so. Arela and Serrah lowered their weapons instantaneously when they saw that the figure was a Khajiit. She stumbled blindly towards them, tripped and fell at their feet in exhaustion and terror. She looked up and huskily whispered two words.

'Help...me...'

She fainted shortly after.

Arela and Serrah stared at her in confusion. But then they looked up...and understood why she was so afraid.

* * *

Jon mulled over what he had told the others behind him. How had he known that the Temple was awakening?

He wondered if it was something like placed knowledge, the kind that he remembered obtaining from when he had slain Mirmulnir in Whiterun, what felt like an Age past. Had he somehow obtained it from the carvings on the wall?

He had felt a shift in the air in the Temple the moment he had stepped inside. He sensed that because he had the other six with him this time upon entering, the secrets, the uncanny details he had first seen in the wall carvings, had all started to unfold. And suddenly, they were draining the actual memories from the carvings themselves, in the same way they pulled a power from a Word Wall.

He glanced over his shoulder. His companions were an odd sort, a kind that he hadn't quite expected despite seeing these same figures over and over again in the carvings on the wall and even on the ceiling in the main chamber, though represented differently. Yet somehow, they were tied by Time to extremes that he hadn't comprehended, ever. As though the trip across Time to Sovngarde itself hadn't been enough.

A Dunmer called Morwyn by her companions; a devout, or child, or something of Sheogorath, perfectly accepted by her fellow Dragonborns, dressed head to foot in Dragonbone armour significantly different from the Argonian's by the fact in the dragonbone was carved Daedric sigils.

A Nord girl called Quill, in the armour of the fabled Nightingales, who possessed a very strange wristlet-like blade that she could extend and withdraw at will. The Seven in the Temple had mentioned there'd be two with "weapons of the world-to-come". Jon hadn't been reckoning that one would be a Nightingale, agent of a Daedra.

An Argonian called Shouts-at-Sun, Dragonborn from his very name to his very appearance. He might as well have been a bipedal wingless dragon the size of a man. He even wore the bones and skin of a dragon, was horned and scaled and tailed with a dagger-shape, and dagger-sharp, blade that Jon recollected seeing many dragons possess.

A Nord woman called Kajsa, whose cautious nature rivaled everyone else's. Jon remembered the Seven saying that she was a curious matter, a woman whose stance suggested that she was a solitary one, but who subconsciously stayed close to the group for a desire of company and companionship.

A Khajiit called J'shana, the youngest Dragonborn, but whose mind's age excelled that of her body's. There was wisdom continually glowing in her eyes, courage burning in her heart and friendliness in the nature that was unaggressive, a woman who possessed true mastery over the dragon that once had lain dormant in her soul. It seemed inappropriate to think of J'shana as a girl than woman.

A Nord dragon named Alyssa. Heir to the Dragon Throne, and daughter of a family whose lineage traced all the way back to Akatosh Himself. Her bloodline was far more ancient than Jon's, but her memories were always torn with pain. She always wore a cloak woven from her Father's heartscales, said the Seven within, to hide the scars of her past behind a veil of masterful illusion. Jon was yet to see her "true form", but he could already sense some great and terrible aura lying beneath her robes and her cloak, an aura he thought he had detected before but couldn't place his mind on. An aura that she could do nothing but hide from her companions...save one.

Six Dragonborns. Six Certainties. The six others imprinted on the walls of the Temple.

The doorway finally came in sight. Jon's pace quickened.

'Is this it?' Alyssa asked from behind him.

'This is it,' he affirmed quietly.

He led the Dragonborns into the brightly-lit stone chamber, and almost sensed their awe and amazement.

'What the...?' J'shana gasped.

'It's Alduin.' Morwyn's voice was taut. Jon glanced back at her to see her eyes were trained on the ceiling.

Her companions followed suit, and several faces paled and eyes widened.

'By the Gods,' whispered Kajsa.

'Seven dragons?' muttered Shouts-at-Sun in confusion.

'What does it mean?' asked Quill.

Jon rolled his eyes. It should have been perfectly obvious. 'It means that we've all faced Alduin in our own parallel universes,' he told them.

Alyssa's fiery green-eyed stare flashed down to him, and she gestured around the chamber. All the carvings stretching from floor to wall were gleaming and glowing, reaching out to brush at the shoulders and hair/horns of those standing in the unsealing chamber. 'The individual carvings mean that,' she said, gesturing to one of them. 'They bloody well mean that.' She gestured up at the ceiling. 'But we didn't face Alduin _united_.'

'And isn't that what the metalwork on the stone is suggesting?' Morwyn added. Something unspoken seemed to pass between them.

_She knows what Alyssa hides,_ Jon thought. _And clearly...they seem to understand better about the seven dragons facing Alduin than I realized._ He frowned and asked, 'Alduin isn't the menace here.'

'But we don't need this,' Alyssa growled. 'Some...some hall of memories to commemorate our defeat of Alduin. All Dragonborns face him, Alduin...so why us? Why us seven?'

Jon shrugged. 'I don't know why we've been chosen,' he admitted, truthfully. 'But that's why they're going to help us understand.'

Kajsa glanced warily at him. 'They?' she repeated.

Jon nodded towards the dark doorway on the other side of the room. The others looked towards it.

'They're trapped,' he said. 'Sealed within the Temple. In order to help us, they have to be released.'

J'shana flattened her ears. 'Who are they?'

'Some, you've met before,' Jon began, but Morwyn cut across him.

'Cut to the chase already, Stormcloak!'

Jon glowered at her. 'I _am_ cutting to the chase, Elf!' he snapped.

'Good Gods,' muttered Kajsa. 'Don't tell me you were this stubborn in life.'

'How would he give an accurate answer on that?' Morwyn pointed out. 'Who would admit to being stubborn?'

Kajsa mulled over these words. 'True,' she conceded.

'_Definite_ family resemblance,' grinned J'shana.

'Okay, _look_.' Gods, he was getting a headache. 'Some of you received visions, or dreams, before I found you, before you found each other.' Jon pointed at the door. 'And you received a message of some kind. It's those words that are the key to unlocking the Seven, and your way of getting out of this place. Pass.'

Alyssa frowned a little, and she glanced questioningly at Morwyn. 'The prophecy...?'

'Would that have something to do with it?' Morwyn demanded of Jon.

_The prophecy. Of course._ 'Not the one that was inscribed on the wall,' Jon said.

'What, _Seven Dragonborn will Fall, but will Rise as One against the sleeping Enemy_?' Quill recited.

'There's more to it than that,' frowned Alyssa. 'We found more to that prophecy the further we progressed down the chamber.'

Jon was stunned. 'You did?'

'What else was there?' demanded Kajsa.

'Most was indecipherable,' Alyssa admitted, 'but Morwyn helped fill in the blanks. So we translated from the walls this: _Land in-between, Snow of Ash, Children of Aedra and Daedra unite; World between Worlds, the Balances broken, healed when Wings of Fire ignite._'

Jon frowned. 'Wings of Fire?' He thought that rang a bell somewhere...

Morwyn shrugged. 'That didn't help us either.'

'Was that all?' asked Quill.

Alyssa nodded. 'Pretty much. It took forever to translate it from Draconic.' She rubbed her temples. 'Damn it, I really wish I had my old knowledge back...'

_And that is what we may restore to you all._

The others jumped—Jon only shuddered. He hated hearing the voices, twisted and guttural and cold. It was only thanks to having heard these voices before, and knowing who spoke them, that stopped him from jumping in surprise.

The voices whispered from the depths of the black door, but they were stronger than Jon had heard them before. Before, they were only faint, echoes of their former strengths. Now they were growing louder, clearer...and somewhat more sinister.

Alyssa's wristblades jumped out. 'Who are you?' she demanded. 'And what...what the _hell_ do you want with us?'

'I think you just summed up all our thoughts there,' Shouts-at-Sun added.

There was a chilling snicker from the black door. Then:

_Himdah ko-nex, Od do Kii, Kiir do Eyra ahrk Deyra gegein; Lein nex Lein, faal Ro krent, tolsek fod Viinggeseyol gekrein._

There was a brief and confused pause, and then the voices hissed, _That is what we need of you, kiirre do faal Eyra, ahrk Deyra. That is why we have brought you here. The messages we have passed on must be spoken now—they must unbind us. But we can only be unbound, thanks to the traitor's magic, by the Vinggeseyol, which is why the Kruziikstrun could not unbind us._

'_Kruziikstrun_?' echoed Kajsa.

'Stormcloak,' said Jon, remembering his own momentary confusion at hearing his surname being translated into Draconic.

Kajsa stared at him. 'You tried to unbind these...these things?'

'I had no choice!' snapped Jon. 'They know how to get us out of here!'

'Yes, by feeding us to the Well of Souls!' Kajsa retaliated. 'What kind of Dragonborn _are_ you?!'

Jon felt rage flash through him, scalding and hot as fire, and he angrily snarled, 'It is not just for my sake—it is for the sake of the worlds that we left behind. Skyrim, Tamriel, Nirn and the world beyond!'

'_Nahlot!_' Alyssa bellowed, in a voice of thunder. It sliced through Jon's and Kajsa's fast-rising argument, and cutting it clean off. The others stared at her in bewilderment—they had definitely heard a trace of the Thu'um behind her words. '_Nahlot_,' she repeated, more quietly. She turned to the dark doorway, her eyes set.

'Jon,' she said, softly. 'Are you certain this is the only way?'

Jon nodded. 'Yes. I am certain.'

'You're willing to trust him?' hissed Kajsa suspiciously.

'What other choice do we have?' Alyssa answered. 'If not this, then what? Eventually the wraiths are going to pull the last of our essences from us, and then we'll be fed into the Well of Souls, one more piece of this menace's power.'

'But how do we know that this isn't some blood-hungry follower of Alduin who just wants advantage of us?' protested Kajsa. She threw another glare of daggers at Jon, who clenched his fists at his side and willed himself _not_ to punch his would-be Alternate stepmother in the face. 'He hasn't told us one straight damn thing since we met him!'

'How many times have I told you?' snapped Jon. '_It is not Alduin!_'

'He speaks true,' Alyssa said, quietly. The others stared at her in surprise. 'It isn't Alduin. It...can't be.'

J'shana frowned a little, recalling some distant memory.

'And how do you know this?' asked Quill softly.

Alyssa sighed. 'I do. I just do.'

She turned back to the black doorway and asked, 'Before we even consider releasing you...we need to know. What does the message Morwyn received in a dream, the prophecy scrawled on the walls and the prophecy we translated from the very beginning have anything to do with each other?'

_Everything,_ answered the guttural, ancient voices. _A prophecy can wear many skins._

Morwyn frowned. 'So are you saying that they're all the same prophecy?'

_Geh, Fahliil._

'Well, I think that's real messed up.'

'I second that,' agreed J'shana.

There was another guttural laugh. _Dragons love to play with their words, do they not? Well, so do their servants...and the messages must be many and numerous. Three arrows have a greater chance of striking the enemy than one alone, to be said._

'Servants?' repeated Shouts-at-Sun warily.

_We will give you names, we will give you stolen knowledge, and we will give you purpose,_ the voices crooned. _But we can do little while trapped in a prison. But know this; you _will_ need our help if you ever seek to return to your homes._

There was an uncertain pause.

At last, Alyssa asked, 'Whoever you are...who are the Wings of Fire? Is it...is it all of us?'

_Niid_, hissed the voices. _A dovah needs only two viingge to fly, after all._ _Amidst your numbers, there are two Wings, and those Wings have the potential of unsealing us, to stand against the menace._

The Dragonborns looked uneasily amongst themselves. Then Alyssa, who seemed to have taken on the role of being the mouthpiece of the group, asked the darkness, 'And do you know who the Wings are?'

_Of course,_ answered the voices. There was the faintest hint of a sneer to them as they whispered the answer.

_Sunvaarseyollokke ahrk Yuvon Dovah. Kiirre do Deyra ahrk Eyra. Pass has the potential to heal between the Wings of Fire—and the Wings of Fire have the potential to restore Pass through their own divided blood and soul. _At the dawning realization on Alyssa's face, the voices laughed and sneered, _Did you really think that the Yuvon Dovah in your message referred to Akatosh? Yes and no. It refers to opposites—and that is what is twisting Pass into the horror landscape that it is now._

_ Sunvaarseyollokke and Yuvon Dovah—the in-between? Dragonborn, both of you! That has been taken from you, and the Balance has thus been broken._

_ Children of Daedra and Aedra—the in-between? Your souls seek Sovngarde that is neither plane of either Aetherius or Oblivion! And instead you have been brought to a broken borderland. This offense has upset another Balance._

_ Children of Snow and Ash, and the in-between is both live in your blood and soul as Dovahkiinne. The Balance has been broken here—the snow _is_ ash, and the ash_ is _snow—with the breaking of the first Balance._

_ Balances exist between you two, resonate from you! Nord and Elf, both Dragon; Draconic and Daedric, both Tamrielic, both mortal; one who seeks honour and one who seeks family, both found in the Thieves Guild. You are Pass, and Pass is you. Pass is your centre unlike it is any other's._

_ And such strong magic is the only way to release us. This magic is as old as Time—the menace's is not. The Wings of Fire, the Viinggeseyol, will be the ones to heal Pass. The Sunvaarseyollokke and the Yuvon Dovah._

* * *

**A/N: And that's that! Now, I really must suggest this awesome website called thu'um. org where it can translate virtually any word into Draconic - write a whole sentence in English and it'll pop out in dragon tongue! Another thing: Serrah is a little DB who I hold close to my heart...he's one of my favourites, truthfully. I hope you like him :) And I hope you liked this chapter, too.**


	15. The Damage That Daggers Do

**A/N: Hey, y'all! Be prepared for the BIG REVEAL... Also: chocolate fishies to whoever can guess the mysterious saviour of Arela and Serrah!**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

'Don't they _ever_ stop hunting?'

'I'm afraid not.' Serrah's face was totally indifferent, even as the chilling howls of wraiths split the air nearby. He didn't even turn around. 'But we'll have to find someplace to hole up. I'm not walking around in this damn drift any longer.'

In his arms was the Khajiit woman who had collapsed before them what felt like hours ago. Since then, Arela and Serrah had walked, rather aimlessly, true, but walked here and there, searching for someplace that was safe. Nothing much had happened, except that the stupid phantoms had kept attacking them. Arela, fortunately, hadn't sustained another bite like the one she had obtained before Serrah saved her. The Dark Elf had been in Pass for some time, and he had hardly been bitten at all. His strength and stubbornness pushed him on. Arela doubted that she could carry the Khajiit maiden even if she tried.

A large ridge of snow faced them. Arela sighed. She was sick of climbing them. There seemed to be more and more hills of ashy snow wherever they turned.

'Do we stay and fight or try and climb?' she asked.

Serrah shrugged. 'Your call.'

Another howl shattered the eerie silence of Pass. Arela glanced anxiously over her shoulder. The mist was leering behind them, as cold an as menacing as it always was, so thick that it concealed everything that it contained.

'Climb,' she said at once. They'd have an advantage if they had higher ground.

Serrah wordlessly nodded and lifted the Khajiit higher. She was still unconscious, and for a moment, Arela wondered exactly how long someone, _anyone_, could pass out for. She remembered seeing the monstrous small army that had presented themselves to them as they marched out of the mist, weapons drawn, teeth ready. There were knights among them as well—knights which, Arela had discovered, her weapons had utterly no effect on. Worse still, they had been outnumbered ten to one.

She still had utterly no idea how she and Serrah had survived it. Well, all right; they had _some_ idea as to how they survived it. As battle commenced, a figure had suddenly leapt from the mist, cutting two spirits down before they had even realized he was there; a giant Nord with cropped dark blonde hair and a physical stature of a brick wall. Wielding a Katana, he had furthermore cut down several more of the dogs and turned midnight-blue eyes to them. He had uttered one word; _Run_.

It was like a command from a God. Arela backed away. Serrah grabbed up the Khajiit woman. Then they had turned and fled into the mist, surrendering their mysterious saviour to the unworldly creatures of this horror landscape.

'Do you think, whoever that man was, survived the attack?' asked Arela, as she began to scramble up the ashy slope.

Serrah followed close behind, the unconscious Khajiit woman now lying slumped over his shoulder, allowing him to use both his hands for scrabbling. The howls were drawing nearer. 'I doubt it,' answered the Dark Elf. 'Who could survive against such odds?' His eyes narrowed. 'I doubt his sword would even work on the knight figures. Your sword didn't.'

'Maybe his was enchanted,' Arela guessed.

Serrah shook his head. 'Enchantments don't work here,' he said.

Arela frowned. 'But magic does. Like fire, and ice spikes.'

'Magic is magic, not tampered with, in its free form—enchantments are purposefully placed into non-living items to imbue them with magic.' Serrah spared Arela a look with his fiery eyes. 'There _is_ a difference.'

Arela rolled her eyes. 'Not by much.'

They reached the top of the slope. Beyond the howls were growing louder, closer; a sinister promise of another battle. Arela had a feeling that there was more—somehow, they kept flocking together, the packs growing bigger, and blood-hungrier. What was _happening_ to this plane?

'There's many more coming,' growled Serrah, twitching his nose.

Arela glanced at him in surprise. 'You can smell them?'

Serrah nodded. 'While Daedric magic appears to have no influence here, some of my vampiric abilities remain,' he observed. 'Such as heightened senses. My sense of smell truly is exceptional.'

Arela frowned. 'Why is it like that with you?' she asked, unable to resist being _slightly_ jealous that his senses were stronger than hers.

Serrah looked at her briefly. 'I'm a Dark Elf,' he answered. 'And my bloodline traces _way_ back to the Daedra.'

'Don't all Dark Elves?'

'True. But I'm from a very ancient line, a line closely intertwined with the Daedra.' Serrah looked down the slope, the Khajiit woman once again in his arms. 'Which means that I received great boons of power from the Daedra when I served them long ago in life, such as Molag Bal. You are a Nord—Nords don't have quite the same lineage to the Daedra as Elves. Some echoes of my abilities seem to have followed me even to this...strange plane.'

He started to scramble down the slope. 'We should keep moving.'

Arela heard a third howl scorch the mist beyond. She hastily climbed down after her companions. Then, as her feet touched the snow on the ground, she thought she saw a large shape through the fog...like a small mountain, except it wasn't entirely covered with ashy snow. Almost like...stone. A small stone hill.

'Do you see that, Serrah?'

The Dark Elf appeared surprised. 'Yes, I do! It's a cave.'

'A cave? Can we hide in it?'

The creatures were drawing closer.

'Well, we have no more time to run,' said Serrah dismissively. He started to run across the snow with more speed than Arela had given him credit for. Hurriedly she set off after him, just as she heard the first of the phantom creatures appear at the top of the rise she and Serrah had just climbed down from.

_They're coming!_ her panicking mind thought wildly. She didn't dare gasp this to Serrah, else she might break her stride and concentration, and then she was dog fodder—besides, she was pretty sure the Dunmer already knew, because his strides suddenly lengthened. He was going all-out for the cave beneath the stone hill.

Suddenly they reached it and practically hurled themselves inside. Arela landed hard on the stone ground. She whirled around as she heard the pawsteps finally catch up. She stared in dismay at the glowing Draugr-like eyes of a phantom wolf-like beast as it leapt at her throat.

_So this is how it ends?_ She closed her eyes and braced herself.

And suddenly there was a metallic _snap_ from behind her and the wolf howled and vanished. A bolt landed heavily on Arela's chest. She glanced down at it vaguely, and suddenly heard Serrah yell, '_Hurry up!_ Get inside!'

Arela was reminded that she was still being pursued by the beasts. Adrenalin flooded through her body as she remembered how many there were. She grabbed the bolt and crawled quickly and deeper into the cave. Serrah helped her up. The Khajiit woman lay sprawled on the ground nearby, just behind them. Serrah stood protectively before her.

'But...but this doesn't go anywhere!' Arela realized in horror, as she looked about the cave...which, sadly, _was_ a cave.

'I know.' Serrah's voice was grim. 'Hence why it's a _cave_, not a _tunnel_.'

The beasts rushed at the entrance, baying their delight. Serrah raised his crossbow and Arela drew her sword. She'd damn well go down fighting if she had to. Dark Elf and Nord watched as the phantoms, shrieking, leapt towards them—

—and suddenly they were repelled by some kind of force, as though they had run straight smack into a force field.

Serrah and Arela stared in bemusement. The beasts blinked once. Then, more angrily, they charged again. Like before, they fell back, some invisible barrier holding them away. Arela felt her skin prickle—a strange magic was in the air.

'Do you feel that?' she asked, slightly aware that the immediate danger of being ripped to pieces was...well, not so immediate.

Serrah nodded. The beasts gathered outside and hurled themselves over and over again at the inhabitants of the cave—and each time, they were thrown back, physically incapable of reaching them, by the mysterious barrier that appeared to stand fast at the entrance.

Arela lowered her bow and said aloud: 'What's keeping them back?'

'I don't know. It's unlike any magic I've encountered before.'

Arela glanced at the back of the cave. She wasn't sure what made her do it—she wondered if there was some kind of soul gem, or something, making the enchantment. It was almost like a ward. Instead, she saw a Word Wall, the inner curve scratched and carved with dragon lettering. They were glowing bright blue, containing unseen unreleased energy, just as a rune was whenever Arela approached it, and it began to whisper and give her that energy, channeling it to her Thu'um, making it stronger, more precise.

The only difference was that every single rune was glowing—a unified energy. And Arela suddenly knew that somehow, the Word Wall was protecting them against the phantoms.

Serrah followed her gaze, and then he did a double-take.

'A Word Wall? Here?'

Arela whirled around to stare at Serrah in surprise. 'You know what it is...?'

'Of course I know!' The Dunmer seemed to be caught up in great excitement. He hurried over to the Word Wall and knelt before it, running his hands slowly over the stonework. 'I've encountered these things many times during my travels in Skyrim...not to mention that they keep giving me strange abilities...'

Arela did a double-take herself at his words. 'What do you mean?'

'In life, I was a Dragonborn,' Serrah explained. 'And these Word Walls gave me powers. But before I realized that I was some mythical champion of the Gods I didn't even care to worship...' He set his crossbow aside and pulled out a tattered-looking brown book from his hip, fumbling with the covers in his growing excitement. '...I was a mercenary and adventurer, and I found these Word Walls many times over. From my experiences with the Draugr, I always wrote down the scratched markings I found on their ancient armour. I gave them names—footman, Restless, Overlord, Deathlord, and so on, determining their names by their combat prowess and ability. Soon I grew to recognize them simply by sight, before they even move to fight me.'

Arela, however, only stared at Serrah, trying to wrap her mind around what he had said before his little speech about the Nordic zombies.

'Dragonborn?' she echoed, faintly. 'You're...Dragonborn?'

Serrah hesitated. He looked up at her.

'You sound...' He shook his head and gave up. 'I don't know _what_ you sound like. Why so surprised, Arela?'

'But...but that cannot be.' Arela knelt down. 'But surely that means that you and I, we weren't the only ones after all!'

Serrah frowned. 'What? I...' Then the truth dawned. 'You have the dragon blood?'

Arela nodded. 'I was the Gods' chosen. It was my task to defeat Alduin—' She hesitated. 'But I thought that I was the only one who was to do the task. I thought...I thought I was the only one!'

'So did I,' Serrah admitted quietly. He looked forward at the markings on the Word Wall. 'But since coming here...'

'...I've been unable to Shout...'

'...and understand Draconic...'

'...and my dragon blood is cold!'

They stared at each other in a mixture of surprise and dawning amazement.

'By the Gods,' Arela breathed. 'You truly are Dragonborn?'

'Yes,' said Serrah quietly. He looked down at the markings he had made in his journal. 'This...accompanied me through life. When I found out that I was _Dovahkiin_, I kept up my habit of delving into cairns, desperate to find and strengthen my Voice...to try and make some understanding why the Gods chose me. I...' He frowned. 'I never found it. But I found answers in another way.' He flipped a page, and on it, Arela saw neatly-marked sketches of dragon lettering, each with a translation beside it.

'Then it kind of grew on me,' he went on. 'Now...it seems it'll prove useful.' He looked up at the Word Wall. 'Maybe it's some kind of key, some clue that we'll be able to use to get home, out of this place...Pass, right?'

'Pass,' Arela affirmed.

Suddenly she became aware that all was silent outside.

'They're gone,' Serrah murmured.

Arela voiced his somber thoughts. 'But not for good.'

* * *

The silence was broken with one disbelieving sentence, broken up into three.

'No. Damn. Way.'

That awful, guttural laugh echoed from within the black door, making J'shana's fur stand straight on end. _Yes, indeed, Dovahkiinne,_ the voices sneered. _Yuvon Dovah, kiir do Akatosh, ahrk Sunvaarseyollokke, kruziik yol—kiin do kii ahrk kiindah nol yolos._

'We can't speak Draconic!' shouted Alyssa. Her voice softened a little. 'Not anymore.'

_It is not lost forever, Laryssin,_ the voices coaxed. _Merely...borrowed—by our traitor brother, indeed!_ Anger hardened the edge of their words. _And we will not rest until we see the traitor appropriately punished for his abandonment of us...and such defilement of Pass, of the Balance between the universes that make the very fabrications of existence itself!_

'Since it seems to involve us more than we thought,' said Morwyn, a bite of impatience audible behind her words, 'so care to explain to us a little more about this menace?'

'You read my mind,' said Kajsa.

'Tell us!' J'shana added, lashing her tail. 'Tell us the truth!'

There was a pause. Then: _We will speak no more, until our tongues are as free as our bodies. Restraints are still holding us back—only then will we speak to you, not through this...portal, this black room._ Disdain was heard behind the words. _Only then will we tell you the answers, Dragonborns. Only then will we be able to help you find the way home._

J'shana frowned. 'And what will happen when..._if_...we unseal you?'

_Tygra, there is very little choice as to what is to happen. Should the Yuvon Dovah and the Sunvaarseyollokke...choose...to leave us entombed within this Temple, then you will be found with the other hapless who are withering like leaves in a frost's breeze. Your power will be collected. Your universes will crumble...and, ultimately, you will be destroyed. Your existence, your memory, all that you care about...channelled into the one known as Lahkendov's—mage's—power._

An uneasy silence.

Then: 'And for those who are already dead?'

_The same fate awaits you, Yuvon Dovah._ _But it differs...and is far more terrible than what rests for the others._

'Is it something to do with...with my scars?'

_It is everything to do with your scars, kiir. That, and the Elf's._

'Morwyn,' corrected El-in-concern.

_Names make no matter now. Release us, Dovahkiinne! We swear to help you find our traitorous brother—to answer any and all that you seek to ask us. This, we promise upon our oaths, our sigils of power, or what else that is of any use and importance here in this realm. _There was a pause, and then the voices added in a whisper, _Until justice has been exacted upon the traitor...we are your grahzeymahzinne, your—_

'Allies,' interjected Alyssa. 'I know.'

_Of course, Laryssin._

'Wait...' Quill seemed uneasy. 'Are you sure that this is going to work?'

Alyssa nodded. 'It has to. They seem to be our only chance of escaping here alive.'

Morwyn frowned. 'I don't like it. They're withholding too much.'

'That's familiar,' said Kajsa, with a sideways glance at Alyssa.

J'shana flicked her tail impatiently at the Nord woman. 'When she is ready, then she is ready,' she growled. 'And pushing her is not going to get her to open up to any of us.'

Jon cleared his throat. 'I think we should let them go.'

'Do you know who they are?' asked Shouts-at-Sun.

Jon nodded. 'And we...we can trust them.'

'Trust is in desperately short supply,' J'shana murmured uneasily. Her brief talk with Kajsa outside the Temple (which coincidentally felt like many years had passed since) had led only to conclusion that it would be a while before each member was considered a friend.

_Then do not leave it up to trust,_ growled the voices, _but up to a choice of life or death. You experience that feeling all the time, don't you? When you lived, of course—a moment's movement, and that would be all it took to make a decision, good or bad—dangerous or safe, or both. This is yet another choice. But there will be only good consequences coming of this. We seek balance between the Certainties. This is the only way._

A heavy pause.

Then: 'I think we should let them go,' said Shouts-at-Sun softly.

'As do I,' Quill agreed. 'They seem to know what's actually going on. The menace...'

'The Well of Souls,' J'shana guessed. 'It even sounds like they know this _Lahkendov_.'

Kajsa narrowed her dark eyes. 'Too well,' she said. 'What happens if we release them? They attack us and bring us straight to their "brother".'

'But brothers aren't always on the same sides,' Jon interjected irritably. He pointed up at the ceiling. 'Isn't proof of Alduin and Paarthurnax enough that brothers can rival as easily as brothers unite?'

Eyes flicked upwards at the metal image of the seven Dragonborns facing down Alduin. J'shana frowned. She had been working out each dragon, which one stood for who, but she had come down to Alyssa being the strange two-sided one, which looked as though half of her was Alduin, and the other half, Akatosh, like the two sides of a coin.

_But why that image to show Alyssa?_ J'shana half-shook her head. _She is not Alduin—perhaps she devoured his soul, and it rests alongside her own, somehow. Rested, at least. _But she frowned. She had not devoured Alduin's soul. He had been claimed by Akatosh—a World-Eater had to live on, after all, for when Nirn's time would come eventually, when it would need to die like anything, or so the Greybeards thought.

She jolted from her thoughts as she heard Morwyn state flatly, 'To Oblivion with it. The spooky voices should manifest and give us the answers straight.'

Jon nodded, as though satisfied.

'Alyssa? Kajsa?' J'shana looked between them. 'What say you?'

Kajsa half-held up her hands. 'I'm not going to say,' she muttered. 'But don't say I didn't warn you if in the next moment we end up in the _Vostrunmahsille_.'

J'shana rolled her eyes. Kajsa's way of saying _I agree_.

'All down to you, Alyssa.' Morwyn glanced at her. 'What do you think?'

Alyssa was quiet for a little while. Then she murmured, 'They know the prophecy...and they know the way home.'

_And we know much more than that,_ the voices sneered. _Oh, _so_ much more...we know of the Eagles. We know of the world you so care about. We even know what damage that your deaths will do—should the Vinggeseyol be extinguished, then Pass will be destroyed—and the chained Vortex, along with it. The connection between world and world, _obliterated_._

Alyssa's eyes widened in fear. 'But...'

_We know, but that is what our traitor plans to do—should none stand against him._

Her gaze hardened. 'Then there will be those who stand against him,' she decided.

She stepped forward, a pace closer towards the black door. 'What must we do?'

In answer, a tendril of darkness worked its way forward from the portal, with seemingly great effort. The seven Dragonborns watched, mystified, as suddenly the darkness became more concentrated. Blackness cocooned around itself, shuddering and shivering, until it suddenly vanished. In its place, within the revealed cocoon of shadows, hovered a small dagger.

J'shana frowned. For some reason, it looked vaguely familiar...

'What is that?' Shouts-at-Sun muttered, flicking his tail warily.

_What we would call a key,_ answered the voices. _And like the way all of you unsealed the ancient Sky Haven, the door is sealed—and must be opened with an offering of blood. But not, of course, just any blood—the blood of the Vinggeseyol._

Alyssa and Morwyn both glanced at first each other, and then at their hands.

'Damn it,' they muttered in unison.

After a brief pause, Alyssa strode forward. She reached out for the dagger's hilt, hesitated, and then grasped it tightly in her fingers. Then she stepped back and lifted her left hand, the edge of the dagger gleaming brightly in the surrounding candlelight. It shone a deep, bone-bronze.

_Eerily_ bone-bronze.

'Go on, then,' Morwyn murmured. J'shana detected a hint of sympathy in the Dunmer's voice.

Alyssa grimaced. 'Here we go, then,' she muttered, and ran the edge of the thirsty dagger over the flesh of her hand.

She gasped and nearly dropped the dagger. Blood welled swiftly from the wound—not energies that the Drainwraiths stole and channelled to the Well of Souls, J'shana saw, but actual dark red crimson _blood_. Then her eyes were drawn to the dagger itself. It had glowed a strange bright golden, and warmth flared from it like fire, until for a moment the blood on it looked black. It was then lost in the glow of the blade. When the brightness subsided, the blood was gone; the blade was gleaming and clean as though Alyssa had never wounded herself.

And suddenly the darkness began to swirl faster from within the doorway. Strands of it began to snake out more regularly, as the voices whispered eagerly, _Yes, yes! The blood of Akatosh, it has broken some of our seals. The blood of a Sunvaarseyollokke...born from ash and birthed from flame...it shall release us utterly._

_Born from ash and birthed from flame?_ J'shana repeated in her mind. She looked at Morwyn, at her red eyes, grey skin, and recalled the Dunmer lineage. _They must be describing Dunmer in general._

'Ta,' said Morwyn, accepting the dagger from Alyssa, but grimacing a little as she pulled off her dragonplate gauntlet. The Dark Elf studied it for a moment, admiring its every angle, before she drew it swiftly across her palm.

Blood stained the blade again—and the entire thing burned a fiery orange and red.

A deep rumble was heard, echoing within every part of the Temple. Nearly everyone lost their footing—Jon had the fortune to cling onto the rim of a nearby brazier to stop himself falling onto his back like everyone else. The blade went clattering from Morwyn's hand and rolled down the steps, to J'shana's side.

The Khajiit stared at it. The shape of it, its colour, the tiny runes embedded on its hilt that only her sharp feline eyes could detect...

And with a feeling like ice settling into her heart, she said:

'Guys...this is a Dragon Priest dagger.'

The others stared at her in horror. But before they could say another word, the chamber seemed to explode. The darkness rushed forward in an unending wave. J'shana closed her eyes and braced herself—but it passed over her harmlessly, and vanished quickly in the light of the braziers, which had flared brighter. Then a guttural laugh...two...three...five...seven...filled the room, accompanied by the sudden flapping and rushing of ancient cloth and the chink of aged metal.

And the voices rang forth in frightening clarity.

J'shana whirled onto her back; seven figures clad in the garments of Dragon Priest robes—and adorned in seven ancient time-defying masks—loomed above her, relishing in their freedom.

_Mu los stin! _they roared. _We are free!_

And Kajsa muttered, 'Told you so.'


	16. Hard Answers

**A/N: So here we are again, folks! Finally, some Hard Answers (and I do also mean that on a literal level). This chapter, though, was extremely fun to write. Oh, how I do love realization moments...and also, while I finally remember, to the reviewer Azaisya, I remind you to read Arela's story _A Heart Stolen By Vampires_. I really should have done that last chapter, shouldn't I?**

**Here, we also introduce SkullKing223's Dovahkiin by name! More Dragonborns to come in the upcoming chapter, as always. But enough of me - you, at last, shall have answers to your questions! And here we go...**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

'Arela, over here—she's waking up!'

Arela jerked awake, hardly aware that she had dozed off. She scrambled onto her knees and pushed herself groggily upright at Serrah's shout. The Dark Elf crouched over the Khajiit woman, one finger gently placed on the soft fur near her throat. He glanced up at Arela's approach, only briefly.

'I was starting to think that she was dead,' Arela said, sitting down beside her companion.

Serrah frowned. The Khajiit's eyelids flickered for a moment, and then sprang open. A pair of bright feline eyes gazed briefly at the pair of them—and Arela baulked at the fact that the core glowed a forge-ember orange.

'Another one?' she couldn't help exclaiming.

The Khajiit frowned.

'Another what?' she whispered huskily. She had a voice that edged on every _s_ hissed, every _r_ growled, in the accent of the Khajiit.

Serrah threw Arela a stern glance, and then helped the young girl sit up. Arela crouched down to her eye level. She looked carefully over the Khajiit for the first time; she was quite young, perhaps early twenties. Around her red eyes, she had white circular patterns. Her pale dusky-brown fur was dappled with black markings. She wore dark sapphire robes with lightweight steel pauldrons and side guards attached to it with leather, although her hood currently was thrown back. A war axe in the Orcish make rested at her hip, the hilt of the weapon lightly touching the soft fur along her tail.

The Khajiit put a hand lightly up to her head. 'Ooh,' she groaned. 'I don't feel so well...'

'Easy on,' encouraged Serrah. 'You've had quite a shock.'

The girl looked up at him, and her eyes widened in surprise. 'You...' she began. Then she turned to Arela, and her brow shot up into her hairline. 'Both of you...!'

'Both of us,' Arela affirmed. 'But what's your name?'

The Khajiit paused for a moment, and then she answered, 'Ei'rahza.'

Serrah tipped his head curiously to one side. '"Ei"?' he echoed.

'I know.' The Khajiit dipped her head bashfully. 'It's not with the culture of Khajiit, yes? I...had a strange past.'

'You don't have to tell us if you don't want to,' Arela offered. 'We've all had strange stories behind our names, too.'

'So what are yours?' asked Ei'rahza.

The Dark Elf inclined his head. 'My name is Serrah,' he said. 'And this is Arela.'

'It's good to meet you.' Ei'rahza frowned, suddenly aware that she was not where she had remembered herself to be. 'Wait...where are we? Are we still in that horrible land of those ghostly dogs and...and cruel armoured men?'

'I'm afraid so,' Serrah replied, as he straightened and stretched out his legs. 'But for now, we're safe. We found this tunnel, protected by a Word Wall.'

'Word Wall?' Ei'rahza looked curiously towards the back of the tunnel, and her ears flattened and her fur bristled. 'My goodness...there's a Word Wall here?'

Arela nodded. 'It has some kind of enchantment coming from it. It's protecting us.'

Ei'rahza's eyes obtained a bemused expression. 'You two seem to know what it is,' she said softly.

Serrah snorted. 'Of course we know. We know it, it seems, too well.'

Ei'rahza turned questioningly to Arela, who shrugged. She herself was still trying to figure out how Serrah had fitted into her former life as Dragonborn, so she wouldn't have been a good answerer.

How had Arela never known that Serrah was one as well? And how...how come Akatosh had never told her, either? She had spoken personally with him, and not one mention of his wayward Elvish son!

Feeling restless, she paced to the front of the cave. From its mouth she looked at what Pass she could see, and felt a shiver run up her spine when she saw exactly how different...how _menacing_...it appeared to be from her former visit to this place. The sky was starting to churn like the heart of a thunderstorm. Distant ominous rumbles, from the ground or the clouds, were vaguely audible. An icy wind skated across the dead snow, and somewhere beyond, that horrid howling from the phantom beasts echoed.

_It's turning somewhat into a realm of Vaermina's more than a borderland,_ Arela thought. _A place of nightmare._ She shivered again, though not entirely from the cold.

She heard footsteps behind her. 'Arela...what exactly _is_ this place?'

'It's a borderland realm,' Arela answered, without turning around. She frowned. 'Or, at least...it was. It used to be.' She shook her head a little. 'I don't know what it is anymore. But the land itself is called Pass.'

'Pass?' Ei'rahza blinked, puzzled. 'Just...Pass?'

'Just Pass,' Arela affirmed.

She sat down at the cave mouth, and Ei'rahza, without invitation, sat down beside her. A few moments passed in silence, before the Khajiit vampire dared to break it.

'Do you know what brought us here?'

Arela shook her head. 'All I remember was that I died, and I woke up here.'

Ei'rahza's ears flicked forward. 'The same with me!' she said in surprise. 'I...I can't remember how I fell...but I felt pain, and then...darkness, cool and welcoming. And then, it was really...really cold.' She shivered, the light brown fur visible beneath her robes prickling at the mere memory. 'And I came to here...and found those beasts hunting me. I felt colder than I had ever felt before, even in Skyrim!'

'You were in Skyrim when you died?'

Ei'rahza nodded. 'Though I can't recall the means of death...' She put a hand up to her head. 'My skull feels as though it's been subject to a dragon's Shout...'

Arela frowned a little. Was Ei'rahza some kind of scholar?

Suddenly Arela heard Serrah call out once again: 'This Word Wall has the weirdest story on it than I've ever cared to encounter.'

Arela quickly turned around. The Dark Elf stood at the end of the cave, kneeling beside the Word Wall and hunched over his diary. Suddenly remembering the vital information the small book contained, she hurried back to his side. Ei'rahza scrambled to her feet and followed them, intrigued.

'What does it say?' Arela asked.

Serrah's eyes betrayed confusion. He lowered his small piece of charcoal and held it up, admiring his work and checking for errors. Arela examined the page closely; behind her, Ei'rahza gave a small, startled gasp.

'But...but that's in the dragons' tongue!' she cried.

'You know?' Serrah spared her a puzzled glance.

'Of...of course I know!' Ei'rahza lashed her tail once, distressed. 'I...I was Dragonborn!'

Arela stiffened in shock. She and Serrah both stared at the Khajiit, and then at each other. At length, she murmured, 'No. This...this can't be.'

'What can't be?' asked the Khajiit.

Serrah half-shook his head, and lowered his diary for fear of dropping it. 'Clearly,' he said, 'we can't have all been from the same time frame.' He gestured to the Word Wall. 'Otherwise we _would_ have met each other, don't you think?'

'What are you talking about?' Ei'rahza was growing more and more perplexed.

Arela shook her head and said determinedly to Serrah, 'What does the Word Wall say?'

Serrah's fiery eyes lingered a moment longer on Ei'rahza, before he turned back to his notes.

'From what I've transcribed from this Word Wall,' he said, 'it seems to be some kind of...well, some kind of prophecy.'

'Does it have something to do with us?' demanded Arela.

'Well...' Serrah stroked his scruffy black beard, completely baffled. 'I'd say that it did, but...it doesn't mention us by name. Actually,' he went on, 'it goes on to mention others.'

'Others?' echoed Ei'rahza.

Arela's eyes widened. 'You mean...?'

'More Dragonborns? I think so.' Serrah tapped the page. 'And this is only the first part. It writes: _From the Fires of Mercy and the Black Snow of Birth, Sacrifices of Dragonkind, arise; Arise, Banes of Fate, and be the Beasts of Fire and Skies._'

Arela stared at the Word Wall. 'That's...one strange prophecy.'

'It's definitely talking about the Dragonborn, or Dragonborns,' murmured Serrah. 'But...well, a Beast of Fire and Sky could only be a dragon, don't you think?'

'If it was talking about a dragon, wouldn't it have mentioned a dragon, though?' Arela pointed out.

'True,' Serrah frowned. 'But fire and black snow...ash, probably...what would that have anything to do with Dragonborns? Well...Dragonborns who aren't Dark Elves. We're born from ash and birthed from flame, so to speak, and so says ancient culture.'

'You think it involves not just us?'

'Oh, definitely, 'specially what's inscribed beneath it: _Remember the Voice of Ancient Ashes; Remember the Knowledge the Ancient shared; Remember your purpose as Bane of Fate; Remember I am always there._' Serrah shook his head slowly. 'And that's where it lost me. Utterly.'

Arela sat down. 'If you ask my opinion,' she murmured, 'I'd say that this is kind of...incomplete. It doesn't have a kind of final ending to it. It's almost as though the writing on the wall, it's been placed there for someone to read—maybe, someone who finds those words relevant to them in some way.'

Serrah tipped his head to one side. 'Any ideas?'

'Not really, no. Ei'rahza?'

The Khajiit jumped—she hadn't murmured a word for a while and had been starting to think that Arela and Serrah had forgotten about her. Then, quickly, she murmured, 'N-no, I don't have anything...any idea.'

Arela leaned back. 'So we're stuck in a cave with a Word Wall that holds a cryptic message none of us get,' she said, and frowned. _Did Akatosh place it there?_ she wondered vaguely. _Did he put it there for us to find? Is it a clue as to getting out of this dreadful place? Or...or is it something like a lead? Something to continue to investigate?_

'We'll find out some way to understand it,' said Serrah, closing shut his journal. 'For now, though, we might all best try and get some rest. It's growing colder and stormier out there—and I have an urge to keep moving. I don't like the idea of being under siege in a cave with one way in and one way out.'

'Keep moving where?' asked Arela quietly.

The Elf shrugged. 'Somewhere. As long as we keep moving...maybe it'll help us evade those horrors long enough to try and make some sense as to why we've been brought to this plane at all.'

* * *

'Everybody RUN!' shouted Shouts-at-Sun.

The rasp of weapons being unsheathed was swiftly mingled with the footsteps of his companions as there was a rush for the doorway. Shouts-at-Sun raised his loaded crossbow and shot wildly—the bolt struck the shoulder of the nearest Priest, who hissed in pain and glided a little back, staggered by the blast.

Suddenly there was a feeling like cold air rushing through him. Shouts-at-Sun gasped as he felt his legs crumple under him.

'Sun!' he heard Quill cry nearby.

A shadow passed over Shouts-at-Sun's vision—then a sound like conjuration, like a portal, and the footsteps suddenly halted. Shouts-at-Sun looked over his shoulder, and saw in alarm that the Priests had somehow created a magical barrier in the door frame, sealing them inside.

The Priests laughed, and suddenly one glided in front of the doorway and spoke sneeringly. '_You still try to run? How amusing!_' He—it—wore a mask of dark iron, its outsides tinged in a bloodred glow.

Shouts-at-Sun pushed himself back to his feet, but he felt groggy and his vision slid a little here and there. He raised his crossbow again, determined to go down fighting—but suddenly a skeletal hand flashed across his vision. With inhuman strength, it grasped the crossbow, tore it from his grip and hurled it across the room.

'_Do not try to fight back,_' snarled the Priest who had disarmed him—clad in a pale gold mask tinged with leaf-green magic.

Morwyn, with a wolflike snarl of rage, summoned magic in one hand and raised the Ebony Sword of the Blaze in the other. The nearest Priest stepped back—or glided back, since they didn't seem to have legs. A magical ward leapt between his fingers, dissolving Morwyn's spell—then the ward was flung outwards, striking the Dunmer hard, and sending the Ebony Sword of the Blaze flying across the chamber, meeting a similar fate as Shouts-at-Sun's crossbow.

The Priests spread out wordlessly, spreading out across the room and trapping the Dragonborns in the middle. They drew nearer together, just as quietly. Morwyn rekindled magic in her hands, and those who still had weapons raised them warily.

'_They have souls of warriors,_' growled a Priest, wearing a mask of dappled gold and green and edged with a faint bluish enchantment. '_But they are quick to anger._'

'You're damn right we're quick to anger,' snarled Kajsa, clutching the Ebony Blade tight. 'Given the kind of shit you gave us whenever we encountered you.'

The flames in the braziers suddenly roared—an icy magic swept through the room. Kajsa gasped; the Ebony Blade was torn from her hands in a whirlwind-like gale. All other weapons were ripped from their owners' hands, sent flying across the chamber. The wristblade bracers were torn from their owners' arms. Again, Morwyn's magic spluttered and died, and by the way she suddenly swore blackly in Dunmeris, she couldn't call on it again.

Then there was silence, broken by the rasping, rattling breaths of the Dragon Priests as they gazed upon their prey.

Then: '_So this is the seven?_' It was the one in the dark iron mask. '_All together, they are indeed a force to be reckoned with._' He turned to Jon and crooned, '_You did well in finding them, Kruziikstrun. Very well indeed._'

'Wait...' Shouts-at-Sun whirled to meet Jon's gaze. 'You...you _knew_ that they were Dragon Priests?'

'All along?!' Quill cried.

Jon stepped back warily. 'I...'

'Traitor!' snarled Kajsa, clenching her fists.

'_He is no traitor, Red-Blade,_' growled the same Priest, sweeping forward to take place between the infuriated Nord woman and Jon. '_He promised you answers—and now, here we are, prepared to give them to you._'

There was a slightly confused silence, but it was short-lived.

'You're giving answers to dead men and women?' spat Alyssa. 'Oh, of course you are—moments before you send us to our dooms.'

Shouts-at-Sun sensed (false?) surprise flash from the Priest's robes. '_Send you to the Well of Souls?_' he exclaimed. '_No...no! Why would we ever do that? What use would that be at all? No, our brother's power would only grow until it is completely unstoppable if we _kill_ you!'_

Morwyn frowned. 'Brother?' she echoed.

Something clicked in Alyssa's mind—Shouts-at-Sun saw the expression change from anger to bemusement, and her eyes widened a little. 'Wait...' she said. 'Brother? But...then that must mean...' She looked around, something figuring out slowly and steadily in her mind, before she said softly, 'You're...you're the Dragon Priests...the ones granted with the masks...the ones that lead to...'

'_Konahrik_,' concluded the iron-masked Priest. '_And you are correct, Laryssin._' He glided a little way back and spread his arms wide, indicating the six others who floated nearby. '_See if you can name us by our masks, Dragonborn. I know you well—I know many of you well, for you were my banes in my various Certainty forms._'

Alyssa frowned. 'Hevnoraak,' she said. 'You are Hevnoraak.'

'_That is correct, Laryssin,_' the Priest replied. '_Trapped in Valthume, guarded by a feeble soul, where a Word of Power to aid a hunter rests in stone...rather like I once did also._'

Alyssa looked at the next Priest, clad in the mask of dappled green and gold. 'And you,' she realized. 'You are Otar.' The Priest gave no indication that she was right or wrong, but the glow around his mask seemed to brighten.

'Nahkriin,' said Morwyn with a frown, to the Priest whose mask was as dark as fresh steel, edged with a fire-gold magic. 'I remember you too well.'

Nahkriin gave a chuckle, rasping like a rusty iron door hinge. '_And I also remember you, vomuz dovah._ _Indeed,_' he went on, looking over all the Dragonborns, '_I remember all of you—and you should all remember me._'

'You guarded the way into Sovngarde,' Shouts-at-Sun realized.

'_That I did—a faithful of Alduin to the end._' Shouts-at-Sun swore that the Priest was grinning beneath his mask.

'Krosis,' Alyssa said aloud, and the Priest in the pale gold mask tinged with green dipped his head once. 'You were at the summit of a mountain, guarding the Word Wall that held the Throw Voice Thu'um. And Volsung,' she added, to a Priest who wore a mask of dark bronze. 'You were in Volskygge in Solitude, if my memory serves.'

Volsung chuckled. '_Your memory serves well, Dovahkiin._'

'And then you,' growled Morwyn, jabbing a finger at the last unnamed Priest. 'Rahgot, in the south of Riften, Forelhost, that Dragon Cult place—Word of Power for the Storm Call Shout.'

Rahgot laughed icily, mirthlessly, and hissed, '_One of your last Thu'um I recall in your life, Sunvaarseyollokke_.'

'And Vokun,' Alyssa said, turning to the Priest in a mask of young steel, edged in sapphire-blue. 'In the High Gate Ruins east of Solitude—a Scroll for Anska, a Priest to guard the Word Wall in the time of awakened Dragonborns.'

'Wait...' Quill suddenly frowned, and looked around the Dragon Priests again. 'Why...why are there only seven of you?'

'They used to be Nine,' Jon reminded quietly, his blue eyes dark.

Shouts-at-Sun glanced at Stormcloak. 'And what do you mean by that?'

'Nine,' realized Alyssa, and more urgently she demanded, 'Where's Morokei?'

'Morokei,' hissed Morwyn. 'I _knew_ we were forgetting one.'

The tension in the atmosphere suddenly thickened—and Hevnoraak snarled bitterly, clenching a rotting hand. '_And this is where the answers begin, Dragonborns,_' he growled. '_Because you already know who Morokei is—_'

'He was in Labyrinthian,' said Alyssa, and Shouts-at-Sun saw her face turn several shades whiter. Things seemed to be making sense in her mind. 'And he was...he was guarding—'

'_The Staff of Magnus,_' Volsung confirmed, darkly. '_And we know of your dealings with such a thing._'

'_And the secrets you discovered behind the Eye,_' Krosis added in a snarl. '_We know many things about the lives of all of you, Dragonborns—even if you never met some of us, we still know._'

'How?' asked J'shana cautiously. 'How do you know?'

Kajsa frowned. 'Did you carve the Temple?'

'_That we did,_' Otar affirmed. '_And into the carvings, we placed this knowledge._' He gestured to the ceiling and added, '_From the grains of our existence, the last of our power, we sealed the Temple away, made the prophecy, carved the inner sanctum where Morokei sealed us within, to hide away what we knew of his dark dealings._'

'What has Morokei done?' asked Morwyn.

'The Vortex...' Alyssa half-shook her head and swore. 'Oh, _gjok_. _Lahkendov..._that means _Mage_, doesn't it?'

'_That it does._' Hevnoraak swept through the room, and came to pause beside one of the carvings on the wall, the one that showed a huge dragon rearing up to meet Alduin. Shouts-at-Sun wondered if that was him—although he didn't think the dragon really looked like Zaanahstkrein, or even Lokhunnonvul. The Priest gazed intricately at the wall for a few moments, before he hissed, '_Work it out, Dovahkiinne. Didn't one of you mention the similarities between the Drainwraiths here, and the Drainwraiths that existed all the way in the dark blackness of Labyrinthian—where the former Arch-Mage had sealed away our brother?_'

'You mean to say...?!' gasped Quill.

'_Lahkendov and Morokei are one!_' Hevnoraak whirled back to face the Dragonborns, and though Shouts-at-Sun could not see his face beneath the mask, he knew that it was twisted in sheer rage. '_The Drainwraiths are his, commanded by the power of the Staff—and you seek answers?_' He emitted a rasping laugh, cold and mirthless, and swept close to the Dragonborns once again, fists clenched. '_Then let us give them to you, dovahhe_.'

'_Through the power of the Staff Morokei brought the Certainties clashing together,_' growled Krosis. '_And in the only place where he could contain them._'

'_He tormented and corrupted the land of Pass, breaking the Balances that make its foundations,_' Otar went on.

'_Here, he chained the Dragonborns one by one to this place, where he had his slaves the Drainwraiths hunt them down and channel their essences of power to the Well of Souls,_' hissed Rahgot.

'_It was not only Dragonborns that he bound here,_' continued Vokun bitterly—a tingling energy seemed to enfold the hems of his tattered sweeping robes. '_He went on a step further, not satisfied with his feeble wraiths, too easily killed, to slow to respawn, too foolish and noisy. They were mere beasts, of course—so he brought knights._'

'_With the powers of the Staff he bound the Vortex to Pass above the Well of Souls,_' spat Nahkriin. '_He holds the link, even though the worlds are in danger of being brought crashing together, ending one world, beginning the next, before their course has passed—and completely obliterating the frailness of lives in both._'

'_The knights, as you call them, came through and the Dragonborns could do little to fight back,_' growled Volsung. '_Their power, brought to Morokei. Only the weapons of the next world could hope to harm them—and many did not possess such weapons. Many did not know their habits...and many died to their ill-tempered blades._'

Hevnoraak swept back across the room, coming to rest before the black doorway. '_Then Morokei, as though destroying worlds in his drunken quest for power was not enough to sate him, brought his brothers here also,_' he snarled. '_He gave us all the memory of every single Certainty, to help us in finding and delivering—and we knew what he had done, the moment we came to Pass and found it Torn with the broken balances, the dying Dragonborns, the blasphemous Well of Souls!_' He shook his head and spat coldly, '_Morokei was always greedy—the unchecked power of the Staff of Magnus consumed and corrupted him even through life. Now he was attempting to make himself master and commander of all things a mortal should never control—the rebirth of worlds, the drifts of the universe, the currents of Time itself and immemorial!_

'_So we refused—and Morokei's rage was great. He sealed us away in a Temple. But we, united, countered the enchantment so it would not be permanent. We knew of the Sunvaarseyollokke and the Yuvon Dovah—we all had tasted their blood, and with this blood magic we made a weak link in the binding chains..._'

'So we could unseal you,' Alyssa muttered, and absently flexed her hand.

Hevnoraak nodded. '_Now we are undone,_' he said, '_and free to exact our revenge on our traitorous brother—not even Lord Alduin would have done such a blasphemy of power!_'

'Why wouldn't he have?' demanded Morwyn. 'Alduin was a bit of a bitch when it came to power, if I say so myself.'

'_It was, originally, Lord Alduin's duty to render about the rebirth of worlds,_' growled Otar. '_And we revered him for wielding the mantle. We praised him—we praised all the mighty dragons. Mortals are easily tempted into power, as I'm sure you are all fully aware._'

'Not all mortals,' growled Alyssa.

Otar snorted. '_You naturally are repulsed at the thought of power, because you're _given_ it, and not always on your will,_' he said disdainfully. '_Mortals are only intrigued by the thought of power if they have to claw for it, fight for every breath of it. Rather like warriors—they find no joy in the heat of battle, unless they knew that there's a high chance of death embracing them as well as their foes._'

'_Hush, brother,_' snapped Hevnoraak, and Otar fell silent. '_But Otar speaks true,_' he went on. '_It was Lord Alduin's duty to bring about the rebirth of worlds. It was his task as World-Eater. But Alduin was the creation of Akatosh—and into his creation, Akatosh poured all the things that he was not, all things evil that do not make an Aedra—greed, hate, brutality, the twisted shades of desire. Thus was Alduin born, and thus did Akatosh foolishly choose to make his son the devourer of worlds. If he had chosen another, one who would have wielded the mantle with responsibility—a mortal, say—then Alduin's tyranny and the Dragon Wars would never have come about._

'_To amend his mistake, Akatosh made the blessing of Dragonblood, and this he gave to mortals—who could have balance between both good and evil, something that Gods cannot. A God is either "good" or "bad"—there is no in-between for an immortal. Indeed, there is no in-between for a Daedra, either._' Hevnoraak waved one hand vaguely. '_Thus their influence is banished from Pass, the borderland _of_ in-between._

'_But even Alduin feared to tread in power that was not his own. He would never have brought two worlds crashing as one—that would have resulted in the Armageddon of both, and nothing would be gained from it._'

'So what does Morokei seek to gain from it?' demanded Alyssa.

Hevnoraak laughed mirthlessly. '_He seeks only power, and he seeks to make Pass _his _domain,_' he growled. '_Since he has already been banished one too many times from the world, since his fate is always set and sealed in stone, he has decided to carve his own in the borderland realm. He has it in his mind that when he has consumed the power of every single Dragonborn, the heralds of restoration of balance from the Gods, he will be able to reverse the currents and alter his fate—and change his destiny from that day on. Should he succeed in such an endeavour, there is no telling what will happen to the balances—to the realms of Oblivion, to Aedra and Daedra, to immortals and mortals alike. But one thing is certain; you, Dragonborns, will be destroyed, utterly—for to be banished from worlds both living and dead, and banished also from the realm that lies in between death and life, where to go to then? You will be nothing, and I do not speak figuratively._'

There was a heavy silence after his words, until at last Kajsa murmured, 'By the damned Gods...'

'The Daedra are just as damned,' muttered Morwyn, sounding spooked.

'"The Vortex is being torn apart",' Alyssa said softly, recounting a distant memory. '"And it affects not just the world of the dead—it affects the Alternate Certainties, too. All of them! Not just your world, or the next world, but worlds in parallel unison to yours. The Dragonborns are dying, and nothing can be done to prevent their deaths—they are being harvested as one source of power, for a creature that is desperate for it more so than we ever were"...' Her green-eyed gaze snapped up to Hevnoraak and she said aloud, urgently, 'The Psijics. They knew—they knew that Morokei was trying to gain control over the worlds...'

'_They had the Eye of Magnus, remember?_' hissed Otar. '_And thus they found great knowledge—great, and terrible. Do you not remember what they did?_'

'I do remember,' said Alyssa softly. She put a hand up to her head and muttered, 'By the Gods, everything seems to be making sense...' She froze and demanded, 'The Eye! Where is...?'

'_The Vortex,_' growled Krosis. '_The bridge between worlds—and two sources of tremendous power, existing and differing in form and manifestation in each world, the foundations of the bridge._'

'_Even the Eye of Magnus has been...defiled,_' growled Volsung. '_Morokei uses it to maintain the Vortex, but he cares nothing for the damage he is doing to it. He is destroying the worm hole as his power grows. And without a link to the next world..._'

'...the next world will never come,' Alyssa concluded.

Shouts-at-Sun sensed the solemnity of the situation. 'Is that...is that such a bad thing?' he asked tentatively. 'If the next world never comes...?'

'The next world is meant to come,' Alyssa told him, 'because not even a world can, _must_, live forever. Just as we die, so do worlds—but the difference between us and a world is that the world is meant to be reborn.'

'By a World-Eater,' murmured J'shana.

'That was Alduin's duty,' Morwyn said. 'But he didn't bring the next world forward.'

'He forsook his power and used it to _his_ own gain,' Alyssa said. 'Which was why we had to put him in his place as mortals.'

Hevnoraak hissed impatiently and swept between them. '_Morokei seeks similar gain—but he seeks _more_ than a world to call his own,_' he reminded them. '_But he cannot do this so long as he does not have the power of every Dragonborn there ever lived. The Well of Souls grows and trembles in the wake of his wonderous power. Knights and Drainwraiths alike haunt the mists, hunting the last._' He rose up until he towered over them, and growled, '_Should they find you, then the worlds are doomed._'

Alyssa frowned. 'And why are we so important?' she demanded. 'I'm a Dragonborn, and Morwyn's a Dragonborn—but so is everyone else here, Dragonborn! Yet you keep calling us _Yuvon Dovah_ and...and...'

'_Sunvaarseyollokke_,' Morwyn nodded, speaking it as though she had spoken it all her life. 'So why are we somewhat more important than the rest?'

Rahgot chuckled rustily. '_You know, Dark Elf,_' he hissed. '_And so do you, Laryssin. You know your secrets—and you know what you are, the both of you. You know what secrets you hide, what role you played in your world...and what role you are to play in the future._'

Shouts-at-Sun looked curiously at Alyssa. He had suspected for some time that she was hiding something underneath her Cloak...but Morwyn? Holding secrets? He hadn't expected her to be hiding anything...

'I don't understand,' Morwyn protested, sounding honestly confused, even a little angry. 'What in Sheogorath's balls are you talking about?'

Hevnoraak chuckled grimly and whispered, '_Your dream, Fahliil. Your dream—and the words that the elder one uttered in the wake of the winter solstice. The words that determined what was to come from the ashes of your Fires of Mercy. Do you not remember? Oh, but of course...your lack of Draconic is...astounding._'

Morwyn was quiet for a few moments—and then she whirled on Jon.

'You could speak it,' she said sharply. 'When we met you—how'd you know to speak it?'

Jon frowned a little, and he glanced at Rahgot.

'They gave me knowledge of Draconic,' he answered. 'And they can give it to you as well—as much as they learned from their many years spent serving the dragons.'

'_We can give you more,_' hissed Hevnoraak. '_For we seek only to defeat Morokei—and you cannot face him alone. He is too powerful—but against seven, his power crumbles._' He gently stroked the corner of his mask and he added, '_And to prove that we will be your allies, not your enemies—for we do not wish for the balances to be broken, and we see no gain at the end of it—we will gift to you what the dragons once gifted us. To hold our masks, we are all but defenseless, stripped of our greater powers, left with the lesser._' His eyes surely narrowed beneath the enchanted metal. '_Its powers still remain, for Morokei ensured that the power of the masks—the powers that defy the laws of Time, now made also to defy the laws of Pass—stayed preserved, stayed with us, when he brought us here through the power of the Staff._'

J'shana flattened her ears. 'I don't like this,' she said to the Priests. 'First, you trick us—well, Alyssa and Morwyn—into releasing you from your tombs. Then, you say that you're going to help us defeat Morokei and free the Dragonborns? Since when were you our allies?'

'_Foolish Khajiit girl,_' growled Krosis. '_Even the bitterest of enemies unite beneath a greater threat._'

Kajsa sighed. 'That is true. But why help _us_? By defeating Morokei, wouldn't that mean that you'd be always doomed to death in your worlds as well?'

'_We are already doomed in Pass, for defying Morokei, and as his powers grow, ours wane,_' answered Vokun. '_We are as bound to fate as you—and we see no other alternative as to join with our enemies._'

'_Our hatred for Morokei's treachery overshadows our hatred for mortality, and our banes,_' growled Nahkriin. '_So we choose to ally with the Seven—we choose to be with you. We choose to give you our masks, that they may protect you from the black magic of our brother._'

'_Only his,_' said Rahgot. '_Not the magic of the Vortex. Only the weapons of their world, or a weapon that has survived from one world to the next, may harm them._'

'Do you mean the wristblades?' asked Quill.

'But then how do crossbows work on them?' asked Shouts-at-Sun, frowning. 'Why not...?'

'_The Dwemer invented the crossbows,_' Hevnoraak interrupted. '_But did you ever wonder where the Dwemer went, after they...vanished?_'

Shouts-at-Sun's eyes flew wide. 'You don't mean...?'

'_But I do, Zaanahstkrein. The Dwemer were intelligent—intelligent enough to find the means of one world to the next, intelligent enough to even make devices that made links. Of course, after the disaster at Red Mountain, they all...vanished. They fled this world, but they did not know the extent of the Vortex._' Hevnoraak chuckled, as though remembering some ancient joke. '_They found the other world—then they faded when the Vortex reclaimed them. But some clever minds still hold the great knowledge of the Dwemer._ _And some things were remade, from one world, to the next._'

'Crossbows,' realized Shouts-at-Sun.

'_But some things were merely constructed within that world, not meant to be brought back across Time—but it found its way there in the end._'

'The Hidden Blades,' murmured Alyssa.

'_But let us turn our talk from Dwemer to the matter at hand._' Hevnoraak glided back towards the doorway that led up to the tunnel filled with the carvings of memories. Shouts-at-Sun noticed for the first time that the magical barrier had been removed, and by the indifferent expressions he sensed coming from the Priests, the barrier had been removed some time ago. '_We cannot leave this Temple,_' Hevnoraak said, '_for our magic wanes in the wake of his. The mists drive us back to this...prison. By gifting to you our masks, we are forced to remain close to them. But it allows us to travel with you—and to fight with you._'

'So it wasn't out of the kindness of your rotted hearts that you'd give us your masks,' Morwyn mentioned.

Hevnoraak chuckled. '_Most certainly not. Even new allies have old intentions. It is true, we give you our masks out of necessity to see that we ever reach our brother and punish him appropriately. But you must have them out of necessity also. You will be more greatly protected while you carry them. You will be able to do things that you could not formerly do—and you will be able to find your way to the Well of Souls in the end._'

'_I do not see a dark end to this deal,_' Otar added. '_We give you our masks—we do not seek to harm you, not here, not in Pass, a neutral land. You regain knowledge of Draconic, and a boon to your strength, a resistance to Morokei's twisted magic._'

'_You do not need to trust us,_' Rahgot added. '_We seek only Morokei—then we will be satisfied._'

'Hmm.' Alyssa frowned. 'So...you want to get to Morokei and punish him for trying to collapse the multi worlds—and as a fore payment getting there, you give us your still-enchanted masks and our memory of Draconic back.'

'_Not all,_' said Volsung. '_But enough to feel more or less like you once had been._'

'Is there a catch?' asked J'shana.

Hevnoraak answered, '_The journey is treacherous—and there are steps that must be taken to reach the Well of Souls and be prepared to face Morokei and the Staff. But so long as you hold our masks, we can do nothing to harm you—and we won't. As Rahgot said, all we want from this bargain is Morokei—finding the way out from Pass, restoring the balances and preventing the collapse in the wake of Morokei's power-hungry quest, is for you to do, and you alone._'

'_There is no need to agree to our conditions,_' added Krosis. '_Regardless, the masks are yours. You will need them._'

'_Seven for Seven,_' said Otar. '_It is a most fitting deal._'

Rahgot glided up behind Jon. '_Perhaps,_' crooned the undead Priest, '_it is best that you receive yours first—you have relatively neutral ties to the others._'

'Less than neutral,' growled Kajsa.

'Hush,' said J'shana impatiently. 'I have heard and judged the words of the Priests, and I think they genuinely seek to help us. They're not making it actually sound unbelievable, like they _want_ to help us.'

Shouts-at-Sun nodded in agreement. 'So do I. We and the Priests share the same goal and we need each other's help to do it. Besides, they wouldn't be deliberately weakening themselves for any old reason, unless they really had no other choice.'

'I don't care for them,' added Alyssa. 'And I never will. But...but we don't have much of a choice either.' She glanced at Morwyn. 'I don't know about this Wings of Fire prophecy...but for now, it seems to have some truth to it. We _did_ unseal them, due to our blood and our blood alone.'

'On Jon's word,' Morwyn frowned.

'For the matter, I _did_ try releasing them,' snapped Jon irritably, gesturing to his hand. Shouts-at-Sun and the others, for the first time, noticed that there was a thin, half-healed cut on his palm. 'My blood didn't work—only the blood from a _Sunvaarseyollokke_ and a _Yuvon Dovah_ could unbind them.'

'Which reminds me,' said Alyssa, looking back at Morwyn in confusion. 'What exactly _is_ a Sunvaarseyolloke?'

Morwyn shrugged, although Shouts-at-Sun thought that he briefly caught a glimpse of discomfort in the Dunmer's eyes. 'A Beast of Fire and Skies,' she answered. 'Born from ash and birthed from flame.'

'Like a dragon, or a Dark Elf,' guessed Quill.

'Like both,' Morwyn retorted. 'I am both, after all.'

'_And more, vomuz dovah_,' said Nahkriin, gliding up behind her. Shouts-at-Sun heard the faint sneer behind his words, and knew that he really didn't like Nahkriin that much. Always made him think of a serpent. '_I always find it most entertaining to how you defeated me within a few short strikes—but you were, indeed, a curious and worthy opponent, as were all the Dragonborns who sent me down as ash and dust._'

Morwyn jumped away beneath his rotted hand. 'Don't touch me.'

Nahkriin sneered. '_If not me, then my mask—it is yours._' And like that, what were left of his fingers went up to his face and took down his dark storm-grey mask. The enchantment shimmered fire-like for a moment, flaring up, and then died away, as it rested in the palm of its owner's hands. It was proffered to Morwyn, who looked at it cautiously.

Strange, Shouts-at-Sun reflected, looking up at Nahkriin's face. It faintly resembled that of a Draugr's, but...well, he guessed that Nahkriin once might have been handsome once, before he died, before his flesh turned grey and rotted away. It wasn't as repulsive as he'd expected a dead face to be.

Morwyn looked down at the mask. Then at Nahkriin. Then at the mask again. At length, she sighed, muttering something about what did she have left to lose, and took it. The enchantment glowed brightly, almost turning orange from the flare. And Nahkriin himself...he seemed to...well, to _shrink_. He lost a little of his...solidness. He seemed more ghostlike, not quite there, faint and faded. He even seemed smaller.

Drained of his greater power, still there because of the lesser that didn't involve the powers of the mask. _So the Priests have got one thing right, at least,_ Shouts-at-Sun thought.

'_Do you remember the enchantment surrounding my mask, Morwyn?_' hissed Nahkriin—his voice was still as serpentine as before. '_Your healing spells will be stronger, as will your destruction. Your energies will last longer. I have rekindled the flame in your blood—I always was impressed at how bright the fire in your blood was, when you faced me...did I mention that earlier?_'

'You did,' Morwyn answered. She glanced down at her hand, and conjured flames. They glowed brightly, and hungrily. 'And maybe you're right. I _do_ feel warmer. Stronger. More...more like a Dragonborn.'

Nahkriin chuckled. '_The fire does more than flare in your blood._'

Morwyn's eyes widened—and without a single second's hesitation she looked up at the ceiling and roared, 'YOL TOOR SHUL!'

And to everyone's amazement, a jet of fire leapt from her mouth, bright and powerful as the full-bodied Thu'um that it was. The tongues of flame leapt up and scorched one of the dragon carvings on the ceiling—the dark blue one, black-winged and red-eyed, who flew beside the half-sided dragon.

'That,' said Morwyn, breathing heavily, 'felt bloody _fantastic_.'

Alyssa's eyes were round in amazement. 'You can give us back our ability to Shout?'

'_Not all Shouts—but the Shout that most appeals to your inner nature,_' Hevnoraak answered. '_And which most appealed to us, of course._'

The Dragonborns looked more readily at the Priests in the wake of the small miracle. Without any hesitation, although with a little reluctance, the six other Priests took down their masks. They passed from Priest to Dragonborn—and a spark in their blood quickly turned to a flame, and channelled by the ageless mask enchantments, became a roaring inferno.

* * *

**A/N: So that is that! Questions answered? I hope you enjoyed this - my goodness, the Dragonborns have so much planned in their adventures. We re-meet some old friends, journey into some familiar places...and learn more about Alyssa's secrets. There is, of course, the matter behind the sleeping Enemy, who curiously, the Priests never mentioned. I wonder...does it involve Morokei, or is it even beyond the Priests' knowing? Stick around! Shout is Out.**


	17. To Rise

**A/N: Hey ho, readers! This might be a good time to mention that I've got end-of-year exams coming up...I'll try to be consistent, but hey, you know the end-of-year madness. No promises. But what I can promise you now is chapter seventeen! We learn who the mysterious 'saviour' of Arela and Serrah is, and a new Dovahkiin submitted by authorette Archesa.**

**It's also a good time to say: I actually passed this some time ago, but I have officially done 1000 hours of Skyrim Gameplay! I finally remembered to insert it into an Author's Note this time...and also, yes, I posted it early - because I'm going to be making costumes all this weekend to be prepared for Armageddon in the upcoming weekend WAHOOO! (think Comicon)**

**Now, without further ado, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

It was Ei'rahza who noticed them first.

'Guys, get up. Someone's coming.' She sounded nervous.

Arela looked up quickly at the Khajiit vampire's softly whispered words. At once her hand went to the hilt of her bow. Her fingers curled around it, and she found comfort from the edge of the weapon. Quickly she pushed herself onto her knees. Serrah still slept quietly nearby, his hood pulled low over his pale bearded face, slumped by the Word Wall. His journal rested in a tightly locked grip in his left gauntleted hand.

Arela looked questioningly at Ei'rahza. In response, the Khajiit nodded towards the front of the cave. Frowning, Arela pushed herself onto her feet and cautiously approached the entrance, her bow at the ready, and her other hand brushing against the feathered ends of the arrows slung over her shoulder.

She peered into the swirling mist that pressed against the cave boundaries. There was a small clearing of ashy snow beyond, and she could clearly see the stormy sky above. The thunder was slowly growing louder each time she jolted back into consciousness, and she always felt a little colder, the snow a little heavier. She had tried venturing out from the safety of the Word Wall cave a few times, to see if there was anything nearby. Those times, she had been forced to return to the cave at a run when she caught a glimpse of the knights, and she had run hard, praying that they hadn't seen her.

When she saw two figures slowly making their way through the mist, Arela felt fear leap into her throat. Were they those knights? She put an arrow to her bowstring and raised it at once, aiming it directly towards the approaching figures.

They stopped, as though wary, and one of them raised their hands.

'We're one of you!' they called. 'Don't hurt us—we just want sanctuary!'

Arela frowned. She lowered her bow, just a little. She thought that she recognized that voice.

Encouraged, the figures took a few steps forward. One of them, their voice distinctly feminine, said cautiously to the other, 'Are you sure that they're our allies?'

'Of course they are. They owe us a debt, in any case.'

Arela lowered her bow completely. She _did_ know that voice!

They finally stepped out of the mist and up to the tunnel entrance. Arela smiled sheepishly at the large Nord who headed the pair. 'Sorry. I thought you were a knight...'

'Understandable,' he answered. 'Mind if we come in? We're a little weary.'

'Of course, come in,' Ei'rahza invited. 'It's not as if we don't have any room...'

'Awake at last!' the Nord greeted her, as he stepped into the cave, his companion close on his heels. 'I was wondering if you'd come around.'

'You saved our lives, so I hear,' Ei'rahza said, and inclined her head a little to him.

'Speaking of which, how in the name of Pass did you escape?' asked Arela in amazement. She had expected him to have died...

'Pass?' the Nord's companion echoed in confusion.

'It's the name of this land,' Arela explained to her. The bedraggled young woman nodded, pushing back a stray piece of hair, and went and sat down near the wall. She looked very tired. 'But who are you?'

'I'm Eliana,' the woman introduced. 'Pleased to meet you.'

'Arela. Likewise.'

Deeper into the cavern, the Nord had sat down beside the Word Wall. Serrah seemed to have woken up, and already pleasantries were being exchanged between them. Ei'rahza sat nearby, listening curiously and taking everything in. She seemed pleased that they had new house guests.

'Who's the Nord?' Arela asked, uncomfortable at the fact that she didn't even know her mysterious saviour's name.

Eliana shrugged. 'I don't know. I was travelling with this other person I'd bumped into in this horrid land, then we found him fighting against all those phantoms and armoured men. Knights, almost, only they're more like armoured Dark Brotherhood thugs.' She closed her eyes and shivered. 'He's a mystery, though. My companion and I—I didn't even know his name—we fought against the beasts. He took out the knights with his sword, black as ebony with a moon-white streak, but then he got bitten and...and died. I think. But he vanished and the things ran off into the mist before I could kill them...'

'Oh. I'm so sorry...' Arela rested a hand comfortingly on Eliana's shoulder.

The young woman shrugged. 'But by that time Revak and I were able to defeat all the rest of the wraith-things and the knights. We got acquainted, then Revak said that there was this place where we'd be safe, and where hopefully the others were now.' She looked around. 'I suppose he meant this.'

'Revak? Is that his name?'

'Yes. Funny name, isn't it, for a Nord?' Eliana laughed. 'Of course, that's a little rich, coming from me.'

'Why? Aren't you a Nord?' asked Arela.

'Half-Nord,' Eliana corrected. 'Half-Elf. My name isn't exactly Nordic, either.'

'Oh.' Arela looked through the tunnel, and suddenly laughed to herself. _A Dark Elf with no family name, a curiously-named Khajiit vampire, a strangely-named Nord and a half-Nord who has an Elven name...seems like we've all got stories behind our origins!_

'But I do agree,' Arela said conversationally. 'Revak sounds...well, sounds...'

'Not Nordic,' Eliana suggested.

'That...but something else. Serrah was translating the words from the Word Wall some time ago and he said some of the words in Draconic...you know Draconic? It's—'

'The tongue of the dragons,' interrupted Eliana. 'I do know.'

Arela's eyes widened. 'You know it? Then...then are you Dragonborn?'

Eliana nodded. 'Or, I think I was,' she added, after a frown. 'Because Revak says that he's Dragonborn. He keeps saying that he was the first Ysmir, or something, when I asked about his past...' She shrugged. 'I'd guess he has a pretty interesting story, although I didn't want to push him into telling it to us.'

'Maybe one day...' Arela glanced outside. 'One _something_,' she corrected, 'we'll sit down and each share our story. Because at the moment...somehow, we all seem to be Dragonborn.'

Eliana looked surprised. 'You, too?'

'Me, too—and Serrah, and Ei'rahza, the Khajiit. We've all been Dragonborn, but we've never known that somehow we've all killed dragons, absorbed essence from Words of Power and so on.' Arela shook her head dazedly. 'And it seems that there are even more than us somewhere out there, in Pass.'

Eliana pushed herself a little more upright, intrigued. 'More Dragonborns?'

'Yeah. Serrah read what was written on the Word Wall, translated it from his little book, and said this strange prophecy about something called a Beast of Fire and Sky...you haven't possibly heard about it, have you?'

'What, a dragon?'

'We don't think it means a dragon—it means something else, but we don't know what.'

Eliana frowned. 'But what else is a beast of fire and sky? Dragons breathe fire, and they fly.'

Arela rubbed her temple, feeling frustrated. 'I think it's some kind of cryptic code,' she said. 'Not just some...strange prophecy. I think it might have some kind of second meaning to it, but I'm not sure. We're still trying to figure it out.'

'Do you think it refers to us?' Eliana asked.

Arela shrugged. 'Search me. I haven't a clue.'

The two women stared blankly out from the tunnel and to the storm-ridden sky that swirled beyond. After a moment, Arela murmured, 'It's getting darker. And stormier. More restless...more...unlike what this land was...'

'You speak of this place as though you've been here before,' said Eliana softly.

'I have, once,' Arela answered. 'When I was...well, badly injured by an assassin's arrow. I was on the verge of death, but I woke up after it all went black, and found myself in this place. Except, it was much different. It was very peaceful and calm—more...' She searched for the right word. '..._balanced_. Here, I was ethereal, not quite dead, not quite alive, but caught in-between, just like this land is. Its very existence, it is there because of anything that is divided. And I seriously mean _anything_. Aedra and Daedra, Pass exists between them. Mortal and immortal, death and life, Oblivion and Aetherius, and so on.'

Eliana smiled a little to herself. 'Were you a scholar by any chance, back when you were alive?'

Arela shrugged. 'I wouldn't say that I was. I read an Elder Scroll, killed Alduin and even became a vampire, and I had a lot of experience...but I guess...reading an Elder Scroll has its side-effects. Makes you different. Kind of like a big step that someone takes when they grow from child to adult.'

'With adolescence in-between,' Eliana added. She smirked. 'Or are we Pass from thirteen to twenty?'

Arela rolled her eyes, but they both shared a laugh anyway.

* * *

With thoughtful fingers, Alyssa turned the mask over and over in her fingers. Felt its grooves, the magic thrumming through its metal and tingling in her blood. Singing with it. It was almost like having the dragon back inside of her again.

Almost.

With a small sigh, Alyssa's mind wandered, and her hand instinctively went up to her throat. The pendant was gone, long gone, and not even an echo of it remained. She wished it was back with her, wished she could feel its reassuring warmth, return to those memories she held dear to her, as vividly as if she were reliving them all over again.

Her eyes went up to the ceiling. In the faint light, as the Priests had (thoughtfully) dimmed the fires in the braziers till they were nothing but glowing coals, she could still make out the visage of Alduin. The bloodred eyes leered down at her, almost taunting her. It echoed beneath the Cloak, and she drew it tighter around her.

The Priests had no tact, she told herself angrily. They had showed her as a half-dragon, hinted at what lay beneath the folds of her Cloak. Morwyn knew very well what it meant, but the others didn't have a clue. Fortunately, not even Jon.

Alyssa sighed, putting one head into her hand. Her fingers slipped up beneath the hem of the Cloak, the hoods that fell low over her face. The skin seemed to shiver, morphing beneath her touch. She felt the hard, cruel ridges of the scars of Alduin's claws there. She closed her eyes and lowered her head. The brown hood, the hood of the Cloak, slid from her shoulders, and she felt the change come over her. Her Assassin's hood was still up, but her hair had turned coal-black, her face ghostly and thin, her eyes dark and empty...and, of course, the three terrible marks that scored from forehead to chin, slashing across her face.

Just by touching them, she was reminded of that night. That image, shocking and sudden, as Alduin loomed above her and struck her. The night when the last Laryssin died...and she rose for the first time, rose as the Dragonborn she died as.

No. The Dragonborn that was blemished, cursed, the effects of _Alduindur_ taking place.

_This is the face that the world remembers me most as,_ she thought. _And the only face that the Assassins recollect me as. The face of a demon._ The word stung in her heart. From her first day in their cities that was what she had been called. But then...a new name. Dragonrider. It wasn't much better off, dragon-standards, but it was better. Just that much better than demon.

She'd been unable to sleep. All she could think about was Morokei, and try to control her terror.

The Staff of Magnus was here.

The Eye of Magnus was here.

_She_ was here.

_It's doomed to end badly,_ Alyssa thought, trembling. _Morokei knows. He has to know, if he has the Staff, if he has the Eye. _The Psijic's words haunted her heart. _And he knows exactly what he wants from me. But what he wants from Morwyn..._She spared a glance at the sleeping Dunmer. The mask of Nahkriin lay at arm's reach from her. _I don't know, not yet. But whatever she calls herself, whatever the Priests call her, a Sunvaarseyollokke...Morokei wants it. Morokei _needs_ it._

_ I have to protect her from him, somehow. _

'You_ should worry about protecting yourself from Morokei._'

Alyssa glanced dully up at the ghostly Priest, who swept towards her. He didn't appear all that surprised at seeing the change in her appearance, and continued indifferently. '_You know full well of what you hide,_' Hevnoraak went on. '_Yet you are frightened of revealing it to the others, am I correct?_'

Alyssa turned away. 'I'm not in the mood to speak.'

'_Ah, but if not now, when?_' The Priest glided back before her line of vision, clearly persistent. '_You know full well why Morokei desires you, Laryssin. But you refuse to accept it._'

'I can't accept it, blasted Draugr.' Alyssa's eyes shone with anger. 'I didn't ask for this!'

Hevnoraak chuckled grimly. '_We did not ask to be cursed with this weakened, pitiful undeath_.'

'Those who dwell with Akatosh earn such a fate,' Alyssa growled. 'Ever wonder why a dragon burns in death? Their flesh does not wither as a mortal's does—it continues on, an insult to Kynareth.'

'_We did not want the ashes—and nor did you._'

Alyssa looked away. 'What do you want, Brutality?'

Hevnoraak spat angrily, but didn't bother a retort. '_Why, Dovahkiin, you bear my mask—and my power, therefore—and yet you shun its abilities,_' he hissed. '_The others have accepted the masks—only when you do, can you unlock its true potential._'

Alyssa fingered the mask between her fingers. Felt its enchantment course through her veins. But there was no sudden upheaval of her soul. No sudden tightness in her throat. No great power, begging to be released in the only way she could.

'Why, Hevnoraak?' she growled. 'Why don't I have the Thu'um?' She glared blackly at the Priest and added, 'Is this something to do with your old grudge against me?'

Hevnoraak sneered. '_I have a grudge to most in this room, Dovahkiin. Why do you think I'd waste my breath and energies on you alone?_' His eerie eyes glittered—they glowed a strange blue from the decayed flesh around his exposed face. '_Perhaps if you looked within yourself...embraced who you were..._' His rotted fingers gestured to the single hood that Alyssa had raised, to the black scars that lay beneath. '_...you'd understand what gift I have restored to you, and you alone._'

Alyssa frowned. She tried to puzzle out what Hevnoraak was implying. The moment that the masks had been gifted to their wielders, they had thrown back their heads as the Thu'um surged in their throats—unleashing many Shouts of varying powers, even a different kind that Alyssa hadn't experienced before, in Jon's case. They seemed slightly happier that they had a restored knowledge of Draconic, and a means of defending themselves.

The masks also resonated with the abilities of each of their wearers. With Morwyn, the fiery destructive enchantment on Nahkriin reflected on her inner nature as both Dunmer and dragon—hence the Fire Breath Thu'um had scorched the ceiling, scalding the metal sigil _dovah_ that represented her amidst the Seven.

Jon had received Rahgot, _anger_, next. A curious Thu'um had burst from him, so powerful and strange that it had split his sigil in two—carving cracks between the white and the black markings on his dragon symbol.

J'shana had accepted Krosis, _sorrow_, and to the sigil upon the ceiling she cried the Shout of the Aura Whisper—which was strange, as Hevnoraak had been protecting the chamber that held one of the _rotsesuleyk_, Words of Power, not Krosis. But Krosis reflected on J'shana's inner prowess, made her stronger, made her faster—more like a Tygra, she had said, after crying the Whisper and making her dragon sigil on the ceiling glow with a mysterious reddish aura.

Then Shouts-at-Sun was given Otar "the Mad", who in life was driven insane by mysterious forces that corrupted his mind. After Otar assured Sun that he was not going to suffer the same fate, the Argonian Dragonborn accepted it and roared the Thu'um for Slow Time. His sigil glowed russet on the ceiling, the same colour as his scales.

Quill was bequeathed with Volsung, and the mask's powers gave her strength and confidence—and from the small, slight girl roared the dragon's Frost Breath, sheathing her sigil in a layer of swirling ice that took time to thaw. And Volsung, who had died atop a snowy mountain peak, saw the irony in that.

Kajsa had been near last. Mistrustful as always, she had stayed back until Vokun, _shadow_, approached her. She took his mask after assurance that the Priest did not trust her either, and assured her that they would never become acquaintances. But the moment that the shadow mask slipped between her fingertips, Alyssa had seen the change in the Nord woman. Her eyes, which had always borne a tired, glazed expression from the moment she first had met her, suddenly grew bright, fierce and clear, like that of a _dovah's_, and the Thu'um came out in a burst of terrifying power—the infamous Storm Call, _Strun Bah Qo_. The room had tingled with unseen energies, the fire in the braziers danced erratically, and lightning crackled and scalded Kajsa's umber-winged dragon sigil upon the ceiling. High above, beyond the Temple, a different kind of thunder was heard, the thunder of a true storm.

'Bloody hell!' Morwyn had exclaimed. 'What did you say the other half of you was again?'

'Breton,' Kajsa had answered, and she had been smirking. 'And I assure you, to my knowledge I know of no Dunmer lineage.'

'Destruction and lightning. Two words that can sum up any violent Dunmeri woman.'

'Fire and madness. Two words that can sum up the only Dunmer who I know in Pass.'

'Fire, Frost and Lightning rekindled,' Alyssa had murmured then. 'That can't be a bad thing.'

She had been left with Hevnoraak—but when she had taken the enchanted mask, she had felt no rush of the Thu'um build within her, no restored draconic energies take to her. She had not Shouted, and she had not asked the questions aloud—but they whirled and churned in her mind. She was the eldest dragon of them there—by bloodline, not necessarily by her age (though she might have been). Why did she not receive a Thu'um of any sort? Upon the ceiling, her sigil had remained untouched. Unscalded by awakened powers. The dragon had not awoken.

But her sigil...two-sided. Eerily accurate.

'Is there a reason you didn't restore to me a Thu'um?' she growled, returning to the present (or jolting from her memories; she really didn't believe that time had that much of an influence here...though how could the Slow Time Shout work, then...?).

Hevnoraak laughed coldly and softly. '_There was no Thu'um to restore to you,_' he answered, '_because I found no Thu'um to awaken. No Thu'um that reflects your inner soul. No Thu'um that is your mark._' He gestured crudely across his face, then spread his arms wide. '_No, those are your marks—the only mark of the dragon is the mark of your elder brother._'

Alyssa glared at him. 'So I bear scars. Everyone here bears Alduin's scars.'

'_Not like you, Dragonborn._' Hevnoraak sneered. '_Hence why the Cloak remains tight round your shoulders._'

Alyssa grasped its folds tightly. 'Should I leave the mask here, then?'

Hevnoraak frowned at her. '_Now why would you do that?_'

'You're useless to me. You haven't awakened the dragon. I've had the scars—or marks, as you call them so crudely—since the moment I awoke here. It's not like you've given me them simply by your mask, or enhanced them.'

Hevnoraak laughed. '_But you will need me, Dovahkiin,_' he responded with certainty. '_Because I've awakened something else...something...that you should never have received._' He leaned close, voice cold, condescending, almost angry yet fearful. '_Now you know what I speak of—a sleeping power, that belongs not even to any other Dragonborn. A power that was never meant to be yours._'

Alyssa's eyes widened with sudden understanding.

'By the Divines...you've awakened Elderlight.'

Hevnoraak nodded. '_And may you wield it well, Dragonborn._'

Alyssa's fingers went up to the left side of her face—her left temple. There, embedded in her flesh between her ear and eye, was the strange indecipherable rune, the brand that she had received when she first had been given the unholy ability. She was certain it read _Dragon_, but she couldn't be sure, and nobody else had been able to translate it.

But it was warm beneath her fingertips. Warm as blood, hot as fire, cold as ice. She was certain it was glowing. Just like Alduin's scars, the scar of Elderlight would remain on any form that she assumed, forever—even in death.

'But what does this mean?' Alyssa whispered, suddenly afraid. 'I would have preferred an awakened Voice to this...'

'_Elderlight is essential to guide the way home,_' growled Hevnoraak. '_I am now the weakest of the Priests—it has taken all my energies to unlock that sleeping power with the passing of my mask to you. Burden my sacrifice—I am still not happy about it, but it will be the light that you carry when you walk in the dark._' He looked up at the ceiling. '_The golden dragon and the power-hungry son do not just represent your two sides, _Dovahkiin_—your ties to both Akatosh and Alduin. As a whole, good and evil, they are neutral. Pass clings to you more than it clings to any other _Dovahkiin_ here—and whether you find Elderlight good or evil, it makes no difference. From these two sides, the Elderlight shines, from what you make of it._'

Alyssa felt a shiver crawl up her backbone. There was a cryptic truth to Hevnoraak's words—and she understood it perfectly. 'How do you know this?' she whispered.

Hevnoraak shook his head. '_Morokei knows this. The Staff and the Eye see and unlock much. It is an ancient magic, even more powerful than the Skeleton Key—and thank the Gods that the Daedric artifacts, even if brought here, have no enchantment, no power, in this plane. Though even those barriers are starting to crumble._' His blue eyes burned brighter, angrier. '_Morokei will destroy this place. Should he do so, the multiverses will collapse. The link to the next world, banished, never to come. Only two great forces can hope to defeat him, just as two great forces gave him the strength._'

'You think Elderlight can match the power of the Staff?'

'_That I do—should you embrace it._' Hevnoraak's expression hardened. '_All of it. Else it's just a lesser power, just like what I've been left with—and my faithful _zeymahhe_, also. How do you think the _Dovahkiinne_ Shout from Akatosh, when they should not be able to in a place that bears no influence in Pass? The Shouts are mere reflections from their inner selves. Embraced, and accepted. The masks merely reawakened what lay asleep. But with you..._' He leaned forward. '_You are a curious matter indeed, Laryssin. Just as your family was a curious matter. I can help you very little; my mask may have stirred the Elderlight, the forbidden power, but to embrace it, you must become who you were in the final years of your lifetime._' He gestured to the ceiling, to the untouched sigil, the two-sided _dovah_. '_The Dark Hero indeed._'

Alyssa stared blankly at the mask, glowing in her fingertips. At last, she whispered, 'I can't, Hevnoraak...I can't.'

Hevnoraak offered no comfort. '_Then you will wither in the wake of the dov here._'

'Then let me wither.'

'_You must not wither. You are one of the _Viinggeseyol_. A Wing of Fire._'

'What does that even mean? Is this in reference...?'

'_...to Elderlight? To Alduin? It may refer to both or neither—but what you choose to make of it._' Hevnoraak furrowed what was left of his brow. '_You say you are a dragon, Alyssa Laryssin, _Dovahkiin_. You grew up with an awareness of what owned your soul. You embraced it then—for the first twenty-five years of your _laas_. Then..._' His eyes shone. '_Fire. Ashes. Death. I believe you mentioned to me, just earlier, that this is what a dead _dovah_ becomes, for flesh does not wither when in service to Time._'

'Of course. It's why I had my body burned when I died, my ashes scattered at the foot of the sorrel, to mingle with the cinders of my ancestors. I wasn't about to become a damned Draugr. Enslaved to Time.'

'_Yet fire, ashes and death was what first broke you, I remember. What near killed you._' Hevnoraak smiled. '_Fire destroyed your life, and from the ashes like the phoenix you were reborn. The very words that you uttered then, that marked the beginning of the end._'

'Those words I uttered only to one man,' said Alyssa, angrily.

'_And that man watches you still. Should you ever hope to return to him, _Dovahkiin_, you must take courage, and confront what lies beneath your veil of deceit._'

'Not deceit.'

'_Deceit is crude, blunt...but I speak truth, Laryssin. Do not even try to deny it._'

Alyssa was silent. At length, she muttered, 'Morwyn...she's the other Wing of Fire, isn't she? She's seen it. The other side of me.'

Hevnoraak nodded. '_So we understand already. But the others must see it also._'

'No. I'll show them when they're ready.' Alyssa's black eyes hardened. 'And I will show them Elderlight when they are ready, or it is time. Understand?'

'_Of course. I may not have been a _fahdon_ in _laas_, but I do understand the purpose of a secret._' Hevnoraak's gaze glittered. '_But I will not hesitate to instruct you when the time has come for need of Elderlight._'

'And will I need it?'

'_If you didn't, I would not have wasted my strength awakening it in this fetched place._'

Runes flashed before Alyssa's vision. She felt the energy course into her fingertips, into her toes, burn behind her eyes hot as a branding iron. Then it had passed, but the tingling remained. The terrible, wonderous power of Elderlight was hers to control—and Alyssa had no idea whether to feel afraid or elated.

At length she murmured, 'What now, then?'

'_Now our journey begins,_' the Priest responded. '_For we have many roads to traverse, before we are strong enough to reach the _Vostrunmahsille_, and confront Morokei and his ceaseless army of Drainwraiths and knights-of-the-other._'

Alyssa clenched her fists. Runes in her eyes, whispering to her of ancient wonders; the faintest tightness echoing in her throat; a light spreading between her outstretched fingers, turning her black eyes white...the glories that Elderlight offered. The brand of its origin was burning on the side of her temple.

And it was achingly familiar.

'_Rise,_' whispered Hevnoraak.

Alyssa turned her bright eyes to the ceiling—and was not surprised to find that her sigil, at last, was marked with her awakening. The thrum of the ancient light burned beneath the metal upon stone. The contrast of the half-sided dragon was never clearer. The green eye burned with fire; the red, with a sinister promise. The gold scales, bright like the sun; the black, cold and endless as darkness.

'Rise indeed,' Alyssa murmured to herself.

Deep inside of her, she felt the dragon stir.

The Dragonborns and other Priests were roused as well, disturbed by the flare. Alyssa quickly stifled it and yanked up the brown hood of the Cloak, restoring her facial features to what they saw of her, before they saw her shade.

'What was that?' murmured J'shana groggily.

Morwyn glanced up at the ceiling. 'Alyssa...your sigil...'

'Aye,' Alyssa affirmed softly, watching as the final strands of the light dwindled and winked out into nothingness, leaving the metal cold and dull as it had been before. 'The dragon's woken.'

'I don't recall a Shout,' said Jon, sitting up.

'There's no need for one,' Alyssa replied, as she felt the brand cool. 'Not for me.'

Deep within her, the dragon raised its head and began to sing.

* * *

**A/N: Yes! So I've now got Revak into the tale, whose author is, as I'm sure you all know, the awesome PhantomX0990. How is Revak possibly in a place where the Gods have no influence, you ask? TO BE LEARNED. And Eliana Evergreen by Archesa...did I mention that before? Yet her companion...who is he? To be discovered in the upcoming chapter eighteen!**

**Now these guys are having their own little side-story but they will eventually meet the Seven...eventually. It'll be a while. Discoveries will be made. Adventures will be had. Friendships will be formed and re-formed. All the deal...and lovely readers, please do not forget to review!**


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